


Easier Said Than Done

by zavynthrius



Category: GOT7
Genre: Alternate Universe - Boarding School, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Magic, Angst with a Happy Ending, Elemental Magic, Friendship, Loss of Parent(s), M/M, One-Sided Attraction, Self-Harm, Sneaking Out, Suicide Attempt, and its a magic school yayayayay, body swapping, rated M for near constant swearing, soul bonding, thats right on back on my one sided 2jae bs, the gays are suffering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-11
Updated: 2019-02-15
Packaged: 2019-10-08 06:39:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 28,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17381531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zavynthrius/pseuds/zavynthrius
Summary: "Is this Jackson's concern for me again?" Jaebeom tries to joke. As much he wants to, he literally can’t refuse anything Jinyoung says."No, this is mine. Please," Jinyoung repeats. Jaebeom can barely see Jinyoung’s face, but he knows his eyes are open and pleading."Fine. Promise I won't,O loving husband. For as long as we both shall live."Jinyoung hits him with his outstretched hand, but they both burst out laughing.—or, Jaebeom makes some idiot decisions, and ruins all but one chance for karmic redemption.





	1. An Experiment In Power

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just a quick notey note hyungline+youngjae are all fifth years, yugbam are fourth years. if you get confused about the magic system see end notes.

The best part of study hall in the library is not studying. It’s too gigantic to be completely policed. No one is going to find them playing who-can-find-the-weirdest/dumbest/funniest-book on the first floor. Still searching, Youngjae has _Handle With Care_ under his arm, a book about flower arrangement with poisonous plants. An interesting read, but no where near the utter grandeur of Jaebeom’s _AI & Jesus_. 

“Found anything?” Jaebeom sidles up beside him. Youngjae runs his finger along the bottoms of the shelf as he continues scanning titles. His chocolate eyes sometimes flicker back a title, like he might have misread it.  
“Not really. There’s some stuff back that way,” he points back to where he moved from, “but it’s not AI Jesus level, you know? Hold on.” Youngjae slides out a thin leather-bound book and starts reading a page in the middle. Jaebeom tells himself he should stop staring, but it’s hard when he breaks out into that smile, and his eyes fucking twinkle in the fluorescent yellow light. 

“There’s cool diagrams,” Youngjae turns the open book towards Jaebeom. He catches what looks like a map of footsteps, before Youngjae whips it back around to keep scanning. This is it, Jaebeom realises with an impending sense of doom. He’s actually not straight. At an all boys school. He’s fucking crushing on his childhood best friend. 

Jaebeom distracts himself by reading titles of the shelves high above where Youngjae looked. Mostly quantum physics theories. “Oh,” Youngjae says, in a more disheartened tone. He’s skimmed to the conclusion of it.  
“What?” Jaebeom says, a little too panicked.  
Youngjae hands it to him, pointing to the start of a paragraph.  
“This poor guy,” he quickly checks the front, “Njorsson.”

Jaebeom reads the indicated paragraph. “Does this,” he pauses to really evaluate how curious he is. “Does this mean what I think it means?”  
“Some hermit does CrossFit and manages hyperair? Without killing himself? It’s not AI Jesus, but it _is_ pretty cool,” Youngjae grins.  
“No. When was this written?” Jaebeom turns back to the first page looking for a year. 1793. Aeons ago. “Specific elemental enchantments didn’t happen until like the 1930s. This guy was doing it the long way.”  
“What are you saying?” Youngjae frowns.  
“I’m saying the guy could have used strength enchantments, and had limitless magical potential in seconds.”  
Youngjae frowns but he can’t stop the beginnings of a smile. Jaebeom’s heart squeezes. 

“Oh no. Don’t, Jaebeom. That could be dangerous.”  
“What? This could be an interesting read.”  
Youngjae opens his mouth, probably to disagree, when the bell chimes in warning.  
“Well let me know how that goes,” Youngjae says, stacking _Handle With Care_ in the _An Experiment In Power_ sized space. “Come on, we gotta get our stuff.”

It’s dense. Jaebeom has to read it with a dictionary beside him to decipher the archaic words. It switches between the reporting of results and monologue without warning. Mark grumbles about the lamp and needing to sleep in the dark. Jaebeom tells him to sleep on his other side. The footstep diagram was a sad visual on where in the hermit’s lodge the author moved. For analysing environmental influence. The guy lived on a mountain peak, Jaebeom didn’t understand how he thought he could have been influenced by the other elements, but at least it’s acknowledged. Jaebeom gets the gist of it by page 89 of this 203 page monstrosity. He’s possibly definitely maybe going to test it. Definitely. Depending on his pending partner in crime Youngjae’s opinion.

“Are you completely sure though?” Youngjae says, voice hushed to combat the echo of the stairwell. Jaebeom takes the stairs two at a time.  
“Yeah,” Jaebeom stops and turns around on the landing, “you in? And you have... breakfast in your teeth.” Youngjae runs his tongue over his teeth, and then over his lips, which accidentally makes Jaebeoms heart stutter. Musing, Youngjae hums as they continue up the stairs.  
“You have a plan?” he asks quietly.

“Of course. I can’t measure muscle mass, so I’ll measure how long it takes to reach our limit. We should also note the things we can do before and after enchantments.”  
“Things?”  
“You know. Abilities. Say I’m testing it with water: before enhancement I can only generate water slowly like rain. After, I generate water like a flood.”  
“Huh. So you’re going water then?”  
“Yeah. I’m not top of water for nothing.”  
“But water isn’t even graded.”  
“Come on. Half the class are air major shitheads. Airheads.” 

Youngjae giggles at that. Maybe Jaebeom should get his heart checked out. “Anyway,” Jaebeom says on the final landing, “since you’re in, what element are you gonna test?”  
Youngjae shrugs. “Since we’re going with our majors, earth,” Youngjae grins, and walks down the hall ahead of him. Jaebeom probably shouldn’t have involved Youngjae in this, seeing how his chest contracts without warning around him, but he really has no self control. 

The first test is completely a control test. Jaebeom couldn’t charm the aquarium keys out of his gen water teacher, so he’s resorted to jumping the chainlink into the pool. It’s his calm place in the afternoons when they have club activities, and Jaebeom loves the swim club. Of course, it was shit in first year, when all his friends played basketball, but he’s come around to it. 

Being in the pool at night makes Jaebeom feel that much more powerful. The air is crisp. The concrete is dry. He rolls his shoulders back and gets to work. The control is to test how long it takes to reach his limit. He’s only felt it briefly once or twice. Once, over the end of the summer holidays, he threw himself at the pool in an effort to avoid a brewing fight between him and Mark. The second time was a few days after, when classes resumed and he went to gen water, soul still completely out of balance. If it’s possible to physically feel your soul, then hitting your limit in any element just feels wrong. Like a pinching in your gut, followed by an anchor lowered on your chest, slowly squeezing the air from your lungs. A bloated numbness that creeps up the legs. It’s not something to take lightly.

Jaebeom isn’t dumb though. He takes down the time he starts on a little scrap notebook, and takes a seat on a starting block. Light rain forms over the pool in front of him. _“This is generation,”_ his teacher would say, and then roll her eyes to correct herself, _“which is just transformation, if that’s even the right word? Science kids, what’s that law that says nothing new is ever created?”_  
_“The law of conservation,”_ half of the class would reply.  
_“That’s the one. So when you’re generating water, you’re using your soul to use the, like, water vapour in the air to transform into liquid water. Like this.”_ She would demonstrate, rain pouring down from what seemed like nowhere. 

The sound of rain hitting the pool below starts to make him sleepy, so he changes tactics. Moving water is a different game to generation, but it comes like second nature. With hand outstretched, the water spirals upward, sticking to his palm as though magnetised. Manipulation is as simple as moving it along, and can get as complicated as pushing it into complex shapes. He gets about a tennis ball sized amount of water in his palm, before he turns it over, willing the water to keep its ball shape. He passes it between his fingers. The ball of water slips only if he really distracts himself, otherwise it’s more like a ball of jelly. He pinches it into a cube, a pyramid, an hourglass, a love heart (embarrassingly), and finally a donut. It fits over his middle finger, and he keeps it there against gravity. 

He’s relaxed. He’s the cool-watery version of warmed up. The peppery smell of magic follows him as he stands up and walks around to the length of the pool. Careful of the ring, he pushes the water of the pool in front of him outward. It takes more effort than he likes to push the waves harder, forming higher waves. This is the peak of his power: holding a little ball of water around his finger and pushing a pool into tiny waves. Of course, it’s normal for anyone, even slightly better as a major water, but it’s depressing. He wants to graduate and become a _sorcerer_. Or a police officer. Or a musician. He hasn't decided, but he has time. A great sorcerer can drain an Olympic swimming pool in seconds, or turn it completely to ice. At Jaebeom’s strongest, he can push and pull it into a few waves. 

His chest starts to tingle ever so slightly, but he knows that's his cue to slow down. He doesn't want to have the magic overdose he did last year. He takes a seat at the edge, careful of his pyjama pants, and peers over into the pool. His reflection rocks back and forth. He can push his limit a bit more. The ring of water slides back into his palm, taking a spherical shape. It shifts and quivers like it knows his next move. 

Jaebeom pinches it with his other hand and holds it over the water, willing it follow gravity and elongate. It stretches down, slowly, like a glob of honey, stopping just before the pool’s surface. Concentrating, Jaebeom makes it crawl back up into his fingers, water rippling upward. It trembles between his thumb and index, as though anxious to get back to the pool. He leans forward to do just that, when he realises his legs have gone numb. 

Fuck. He tosses the water back to the depths and stumbles upright. Awkwardly limping, he brisks back to the starting block for his scrappy notebook and takes down the time. The blue LED on the back wall reads 23:27. He scrawls it down and could scream that he has to scale the fucking fence with lead for feet. He clambers over to the other side and his foot slips, hands blistering as he scrambles for a hold. 

Usually when your feet go numb, you get pins and needles as blood flows back into your legs. The thing with hyperelementalism is that it isn't a lack of blood flow that makes your feet numb. It's your soul messing with your nerves to tell you you're out of balance. The numbness creeps up his shins to his knees as he limps up the multitude of concrete steps. A quick glance down shows they're going splotchy red and purple. He limps past the aquarium, the gymnasium, and takes to the grass to avoid the hall at the end of the path. He can't feel the fucking grass but from the looks of it, it's wet with dew on his bare feet. 

Finally in the ground level of the dorm building, he forgets his gay fate to fall in love with the glowing coals in the fireplace. That is, until he spots the person in school pyjamas, asleep in front of the fireplace. The brown hair makes his stomach flip. He sneaks (as carefully as someone with numb legs can) up behind this individual, and is overwhelmed by a need to smile when he confirms it’s Youngjae. He sits down beside him, and careful of his blistered palms, shakes him gently. He stirs and mutters _go away_. Classic behaviour from sleepy Youngjae. Jaebeom shakes him a little more forcefully and whispers, “Come on. Time to go to bed.” Youngjae finally opens his eyes, taking in a big yawn. Jaebeom can't tell if it's because his heart aches, or the fire place passively provided some balance, but his legs have pins and needles. 

The morning after the control test, Youngjae reported he had a time of an hour until his limit, half an hour less than Jaebeom’s. For the second test, they take only one strength enchantment, and see how long it takes until the limit (if any) is reached. Njorsson didn't take this secondary test, but Jaebeom feels it's the logical next step.  
“Okay,” Youngjae agrees, “but I'm just a little- strength enchantments are meant to boost your soul’s limit, right? What happens when the enchantment wears off, and you're still way over your natural limit?”  
Potential danger, Jaebeom thinks. He already went over just on the control test. They would need another strength enchantment to stave it off, but that would ruin the point of the ‘just one’ test. Luckily he already had a vague plan.  
“We’ll have to supervise eachother. When we feel the effect wearing off, take down the time and give the other one more enchantment. Then we hike up to the dorm or the roof to ride it out back to normal. That sound good?” 

Youngjae nods, concentrated on fidgeting with his silver ring. Jaebeom has the distinct urge to hold his hands, but settles for his shoulder. “Don't worry. I'd rather die than see you hurt.” He mentally slaps himself for such a cheesy line, but Youngjae loosens up.  
“Please don’t,” he looks up, and smiles sheepishly. Jaebeom thinks he might die at this rate.  
“I won't.”

As fate would have it, he doesn't die from any harm to Youngjae, nor a heart attack. It's a miracle Namjoon doesn't stir at the front door’s creak, or that Mark nor Bambam notice they're gone either. Which is really weird, since Mark is the lightest sleeper on Earth. Too many times Jaebeom has woken up from being asphyxiated by a pillow. Whatever it is, he’s thankful for having not been reported. Jaebeom leaves the dorm after lights out. 

With that, the second test is a success. The times were a little off, since Youngjae couldn't keep to the 5-metre no-share-radius when he got sick of raising his voice to talk. Not that Jaebeom really cared, but the times were still hours longer than the control ones. Finally it was time for the third test. This was the one Jaebeom had been waiting for since he borrowed out the book. They would take multiple strength enchantments to see if it “exponentially” expanded their natural limit. Everything else had worked out so far.

It's even better than he imagined. He doesn't really want to drain the pool (because he doesn't know how to refill it), but as he works himself up and past his natural limit, the water responds to him like he’s royalty. He can hold rings on every finger. It quivers around his feet. Youngjae eggs him to try and walk on water. It fails spectacularly, and he clambers out completely soaked to Youngjae's laughter. As soon as he wished his pyjamas wouldn't be stuck to him, the water drains out of his clothes and back to the pool. He has to pinch his shirt to be sure. It smells like chlorine, but it's completely dry. Youngjae coughs to stop his laughing, scribbling some notes down. 

Feeling a little more confident, he tries again. The water wobbles like jelly, but he's on top of the water. The more he walks around on it, the more stable he is. Youngjae toes the water without the same success. Jaebeom wants to share this with him. Even the flicker of the thought has the water responding, cascading into solid ice. They both stare at each other speechless. He's limitless.  
“How many enchantments is this?” Jaebeom nearly slips.  
“Maybe like 12? I don't know I keep adding them.” 

After re-enacting Moses and the Red Sea, they check the time, which reads something they're going to regret tomorrow/today, and decide 3 AM is a great time to get back to the dorm. Youngjae forces him to sit in front of the fireplace, where they inevitably pass out. He's awoken to being prodded in the back, plus a screeching _Where were you guys! I thought you got kidnapped!_

Jaebeom whips around to a distressed Jackson. He's normally sloppily-dressed for breakfast, but he doesn't even have his tie wrapped around his neck,his coconut shaped bowl cut frazzled. Jaebeom could almost feel sorry, when the headache of a lifetime hits him like a freight truck.  
“I was fucking freezing and I couldn't sleep. Don't you dare kick me again or I'll strangle you,” Jaebeom rasps. Jackson doesn't even seem to hear him over his visible relief. 

“Is everything okay?” Namjoon comes up behind him. At least Namjoon doesn't seem as perturbed, tie snuggly in place and hair neatly combed. If it was even possible, he was the human embodiment of the word ‘prefect’.  
“Sorry,” Jaebeom blurts out. “Youngjae couldn't sleep, and I was freezing so we came down and accidentally fell asleep.” Youngjae grumbles in his sleep.  
“It's fine, but you should have stayed in the dorm. You can come grab a blanket off me if you get cold,” he says coolly. “Jackson, you forgot your tie,” he adds upon viewing Jackson’s ruffled appearance.  
“Oh, shit, I'll go get that,” Jackson blinks in surprise. Namjoon looks to Jaebeom as Jackson scampers off, thundering up the stairs. 

Namjoon pulls an exasperated grimace as if to say _that idiot_.  
“Go up and get changed. See you in the hall,” he says, and walks out. Jaebeom focuses back on Youngjae, who he realises with belated horror, has been leaning on Jaebeom this whole time.  
“Youngjae, time to wake up now,” he jostles his back. Youngjae stirs awake with a groan.  
“No. Go away,” he grumbles. Jaebeom’s heart swells at his pout.  
“Come on. We gotta go get dressed. Go eat breakfast.”

Youngjae, having never been a morning person, gets back up to the dorm and collapses in his bed, straight back to sleep. Jaebeom just decides to tell Namjoon he’s sick, and gets dressed at an inhumane speed. He misses half of breakfast, but manages to get the message to his prefect. First period is always the hardest to function in, starting at 8 _fucking_ AM, and even harder with a total 4 hours of sleep. He has done worse, example: the exam period last year, but having to muster the energy for Offense is going to murder him. Walking to the gym, he clings to Jackson in Youngjae’s absence. 

“Dude where do even go? Mark says you keep sneaking out,” Jackson remarks in a hushed tone. The experiments have become the thing Jaebeom looks forward to, rivalling ‘study’ sessions with Youngjae. Remembering Jackson’s strong viewpoint on equilibrium makes him just a little hesitant to divulge everything.  
“I just go down the the fireplace. Nothing exciting.” Jackson opens his mouth to protest, but upon entering the hall, snaps to attention at a new boy talking to the offense teacher. Jaebeom takes him for a prefect, with the pressed uniform and rigid posture. His dark hair is combed down across his forehead The noise of the rest of the small class entering causes the teacher to pat the new boy on the shoulder and start the lesson.

Mr Marin is one of Jaebeom’s favourites. The man is tall, lean, and approaching retirement, but Jaebeom appreciates his old-school attitude. Plus he has a tendency to go off on a tangent, which could really help his current no-sleep situation right now. Unfortunately he seems energised, probably by the presence of the new boy. It's a little odd that someone new to the school would get straight into Offense, what with the rigorous background checks. Jaebeom had to answer to, _“I see your father died when you were young. That make you want to hurt people, son?”_ with a confident _no_.

“Alright, so,” Mr Marin announces, ushering people to sit down in front of him. “We have a new student joining us, and I’ll let him introduce himself in a minute. But because of that, it's not going to be a big lesson. Let's see what the little prince can do,” and he waves for the boy to stand. A little prince. Jaebeom revises his earlier ‘prefect’ description, and “princely” could fit. Maybe it's just the awkwardness of being new. He has a straight posture and his arms crossed, a pose that normally radiates confidence, but it frankly just isn't there.  
“Hello, I’m Park Jinyoung. Nice to me-et you all,” he says, voice cracking in the middle. Jooheon and a few others laughs. 

Mr Marin scans them, looking for his first matchup. Jaebeom remembers having to spar with everyone the first few weeks of last year, so Mr Marin got a feel for everyone's ability. Jaebeom initially sucked ass, but knowing the face of his father’s murderer made it easy to channel a fighting spirit, and his marks reflect that. This time it's just one kid. Park Jinyoung. The teacher’s eyes land on Jaebeom’s.  
“Wang. You look suitable,” he says, and Jackson jumps to his feet. Jaebeom tries to catch his eye again to clarify _why_ he looked to him, but he's already focused on Jackson and Jinyoung. Kai came in earlier and already had the mat set up, so they all stand around it ready to observe. Jackson makes some inaudible comment that Jinyoung laughs at.

Jackson has a fighting style best described as orthodox, coming from a background in martial arts. He quickly learns your moves and adapts, typical of his fire and air mix. He attacks with everything he's got, so if you can wear him out, he’ll leave himself open, with not enough speed to defend. Jaebeom doesn't know what element he expected from Jinyoung. Earth, air maybe. Youngjae's more perceptive when it comes to majors and minors. What he wasn't expecting was a major fire. Jinyoung turns out to be the definition of unorthodox. 

Jackson’s used to a measurable space between him and an opponent, the surprise is visible when Jinyoung is quick to get in his face. Maybe Jinyoung is used to facing brawny guys, but he has a thing for grabbing at clothing. Where Jackson is an all rounder, using equal amounts physical force and magic when he throws a punch, Jinyoung relies on his magic. A lot. They tussle, almost equally matched until Jinyoung kicks his knee and Jackson falls back. From there he's down and out. Jackson is pretty good, but his groundwork is on the weak side, relying on defending as Jinyoung pummels him.  
“Okay okay, I’m out!” Jackson shouts, after a few too many punches slip through. Jinyoung relents, helping him up. “Fuck that burnt man,” Jackson massages his knee, grin splayed across his features. The familiar peppery scent of magic is strong, coming off in waves.  
“You're not so bad yourself,” Jinyoung smiles back. Jaebeom can’t tell if it's genuine or not. 

Mr Marin holds Jinyoung’s arm up as the winner.  
“We have a winner. Not many beat the Wang on their first match,” he pats Jackson on the back as consolidation. Jackson’s front is drenched in sweat, side effect from a fire versus fire fight, but he seems just fine.  
“Now,” Mr Marin meets Jaebeom’s eyes, “let's see you teach Mr Im a lesson.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi!!! I didn't feel like info dumping too much so:  
> \- everyone has a funky thing called a soul that houses the person's ability to use elemental magic. everyone can use all 4 elements.  
> \- this soul has a limit to how much magical you can put in it. it's also finicky about having an equal amount of magic in each element.  
> \- not all souls were created equally. some people have naturally more potential, others don't.  
> boom. let me know if smth doesn't make sense.


	2. The Physiology of a Soul, 7th ed.

Jaebeom walks forward onto the mat, shucking out of his socks and school blazer. His eyes are burning in their sockets from exhaustion. Mr Marin pulls them both in by their shoulders. “Remember boys. Nothing above the shoulders, no crotch kicking, hair pulling or crying.” Jaebeom shuffles his feet, trying to get his sleep deprived brain to focus enough to whoop ass. It's up close he notices they’re about the same height. Jinyoung seems slightly amused.

It's over embarrassingly fast. Jaebeom tries to take the stamina approach he takes with the other fire majors, but Jinyoung is so fucking unpredictable, even with his amateur mistakes. Jaebeom can fairly easily defend _magically_ , but that doesn't mean Jinyoung follows the major attack minor defend structure. His defence elements are completely random- fire, earth, water. All it takes is for Jaebeom’s slowness to make him slip up on defense, and Jinyoung decks him.

“As expected from royal blood,” Mr Marin whistles. Jaebeom hit his head pretty hard, so he's not sure he heard that right until Jackson pipes in, “Royal? What do you mean, sir?”  
“I'm sure if you’re nice to Jinyoung, he might tell you.” Jinyoung glances at the teacher, the flicker of a frown crossing his face. His expressions always seem carefully selected, like a mask, but the protective arms across the chest give him away. Jinyoung catches him looking, and offers a hand up. Jaebeom gets to his feet on his own.

The bell for second period chimes overhead. “The fights continue tomorrow. See you all then,” Mr Marin waves people away, spying for a student to task with packing the mat away. Jackson throws a sweaty arm around Jinyoung, their blazers tucked under their arms.  
“Not to brag, but I already know we’re gonna be best friends. Like, did you see that _kick_ you pulled? I've never seen someone so fast,” he gushes, pulling him past Jaebeom like he's not even there.

Whatever. He doesn't _need_ Jackson anyway. What he _does_ need is a 12 hour nap. Just thinking about it makes his headache worse. But no amount of sleep could have prepared him for afternoon tea. In the recess before, Jackson did his table rounds as the most social of social butterflies known to Amaranth Peaks Private- so of course, Jaebeom missed the fact that this new kid Jinyoung moved into _their_  dorm. Jaebeom’s brain to mouth filter must be broken, because he swears he hears himself say that last part aloud. Sitting across from him, Jackson gasps. Mark is suddenly more interested in the wooden picnic table. Jinyoung blinks, crossing his arms around his stomach.  
“I didn't mean it like that. Just surprising,” Jaebeom adds.

There's been an awkward animosity between them ever since Offense that he can't quite shake. Jackson thankfully knows how to read a mood and change the subject.  
“So what do we have next?” he says, way too loud.  
Jaebeom bites back _the same two subjects you've had since forever_ , but Mark supplies, “Gen.”  
“Ugh. You know, ever since last week’s Air my sec- my _soul’s_ been sore as fuck,” Jackson groans. Jaebeom looks to Mark to confirm the weird stutter was to hide something. He figures it's because of Jinyoung’s presence.

“Can I ask- what is ‘Gen’?” Jinyoung asks. Jaebeom can’t tell if he's being real.  
“Oh you know,” Jackson waves his hands around, “you practise the element you're out in?”  
“Out in?”  
“Out of balance in. Like, you know when you've done too much fire magic and you need to do some water to get back in balance- no, to _equilibrium_?” Jackson says, pleased with his word choice. “Anyway, that's what Gen. is for. You can go to Gen. water air fire or earth, based off which element you're out in. Does that make sense?” Jackson explains.  
“Yes...” Jinyoung says, following up with, “but I don't really understand ‘equilibrium’?”

Jaebeom has never seen a more genuine expression of shock than Jackson gaping like a goldfish. “I know it means a state of balance between opposing forces! But what is it exactly in this context?” Jinyoung says hastily.  
“Wow, okay, um, equilibrium. It's like. Well you know how fire opposes water, and air opposes earth?” Jackson says, testing for Jinyoung’s response.  
Jinyoung nods aptly. “Okay. So equilibrium is where every element is on the same level. All the space in your soul is filled with an equal amount of each element or something. When you’re in equilibrium is when you’re most powerful,” Jackson explains.

“Didn't you have Gen. classes at your old school?” Jaebeom asks. He wonders briefly if Jinyoung is playing dumb to appeal to Jackson- in which he suddenly wants a rematch the next time they have Offense.  
“No. Public schools just have one class dedicated to magic. It's basically history,” Jinyoung answers, holding his gaze. It's unnerving, but Jaebeom takes it as a challenge.  
“Does that mean you know what majors and minors are?”  
Jaebeom catches the way he chews his cheek, the silence illicting another scandalised gasp from Jackson.  
“Okay, um,” Jackson fumbles to explain it. He decides to stand up, and urges Jinyoung to stand up with him. He takes Jinyoung’s hand, pressing his palm to the centre of his chest.

Now Jackson has done more outrageous things, example: getting into a fight with a senior in only his second year, but letting someone he _just met_ soul search him is pretty up there. Jinyoung for once has an expression other than neutral, his eyes wide and ears red. Mark glances to Jaebeom with a frown that conveys _what the fuck is he doing?_  
“I'm a fire major, air minor. Can you feel that?” Jackson asks, straining to keep his voice even. Jaebeom imagines Bambam dramatically imitating it, _can you feel that? In your fingertips?_  and covers his mouth with a hand to not burst out laughing. Jinyoung just nods wordlessly, allowing his wrist to be pulled over to Mark. “Your sternum please,” Jackson says in his best stern teacher voice.  
“Why can’t you explain it normally,” Mark whines quietly, but reluctantly complies when Jackson gives him the puppy eyes. He turns, so Jinyoung’s Jackson-guided palm meets his chest.  
“And Mark is an air major fire minor,” Jackson says. He brings Jinyoung's palm back to his own chest for reference. “See? He has less fire than me,” he gloats.  
“Okay. I think I got it,” Jinyoung states, trying to take his hand back, but Jackson has other plans as he leads him around the table to Jaebeom. Oh no. Jaebeom crosses his arms for protection. He rejoiced escaping the Friday check-up that was mandatory in junior years. That was as invasive as it was embarrassing.

“Mr Im,” Jackson resumes his gruff voice. Jaebeom bites his lip to stop from smiling. The waning fatigue headache means he has no fucking control. “Your sternum, young man. Now.” Jackson bats his arms away and pulls Jinyoung forward. Jinyoung suddenly can't meet Jaebeom’s eye, but neither can Jaebeom. He reluctantly, _very reluctantly_ , relaxes his posture and focuses on his chest, the ease with which he does is a remnant of mandatory checks. Jackson pushes Jaebeom’s tie aside and leads Jinyoung's palm in.

Soul searching is, for lack of a better word, _intimate_. It makes you completely vulnerable. Get hit with magic in your chest, and you’re in the emergency room within seconds. It’s an act of trust. It’s the sort of shit characters do in romance novels after they’ve had mind-blowing sex to affirm they love each other. Not that Jaebeom would know. He definitely doesn't know what to do with Jinyoung's palm on his chest.  
“JB is a water major, earth minor. Voilà, the tour is over,” Jackson lets Jinyoung's wrist go. “Do you get it?”  
Jinyoung nods. “So what’s your major minor- wait, _alignment_?” Jackson asks.

Jinyoung brings his palm to his own chest, brows creased in concentration.  
“I think, fire major, earth minor? Did I say that right? What-“  
Jinyoung is cut off by the bell for fifth period ringing.  
“Cool. Well, me and Mark are headed to air, uh fire’s on the field, earth is out by that big ass tree, and JB’s going to water,” Jackson shouts over the noise hundreds of kids going to class. Jinyoung’s eyes go wide, but Jackson doesn't have the patience, or more likely the nerve to face him after the shit he just pulled, and starts walking past him.  
“I'll just... go to water then,” Jinyoung says, more to himself than to Jackson, and Jaebeom doesn't that the current mental capacity to figure out that decision.

Jaebeom prays to whatever god to save him. Not that Jinyoung is a bad kid, but the distance with which he walks beside Jaebeom reminds him of how awkward things are going to be.  
“So,” Jinyoung says. Jaebeom glances at him, and he's almost staring Jaebeom down. “What is the difference between major and minor, if you're so... knowledgeable?”  
Jaebeom’s skin prickles, and he has to remind himself to breathe deeply. He's going to be nice for Jackson's sake.  
“Your major is the first element you present as a kid. If you're a fire major, you probably burnt your favourite toy, or your cot,” he says. Jinyoung nods for him to continue. “Majors are generally the element you're strongest in, most comfortable in. Minors are your second strongest.” Jinyoung just nods, which makes Jaebeom want to wipe that neutral expression clean off his face. Luckily they’re at the end of the path, and they turn into the aquarium.

Jaebeom loves the aquarium. He already knows when he’s older and owns a mansion he's going to have an aquarium of his own. He doesn't know where he's getting the money for a mansion. Maybe he should just work at an aquarium. When everyone has filtered in, the doors shut and the lights flick off. The glow from the ceiling high tanks casts the room in blue.  
“Okay settle down,” Ms Salvio clears her voice above the twenty something students in the aquarium. Jaebeom sits at the back of the carpet in the centre of the room. If Mr Marin was his favourite, Ms Salvio was a close second. She has the same alignment as Jaebeom, and worked as a sorceress for six years prior to teaching. She also never assigns homework.

“Oh! You're new!” she exclaims upon seeing Jinyoung. He straightens.  
“Yes, I'm Park Jinyoung,” he says, right hand clenching his pants. Ms Salvio nods in approval. Jinyoung sinks down beside Jaebeom.  
“So, today we’re going to be doing a bit of mood enchantment,” she announces, picking up a clear plastic bucket from the stacks around her feet. “You can all do that, can't you? Good. We’re enchanting water in these buckets. Come get a bucket and start filling it.” Jaebeom regrets letting Youngjae sleep the day away. It's his turn to collect buckets. Jaebeom and Jinyoung silently collect their buckets and return to the edge of the carpet. If he had any energy, he'd show off by filling the bucket to the brim, but he settles to fill it halfway, and the light rain pours into the bucket. Soon the aquarium is filled with the sound of rain and muted conversation. Jaebeom glances across at Jinyoung. He has his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, hands pressed to the bottom of the bucket. Water pools slowly around fingers. He catches Jaebeom’s judging stare, and lifts his hands up if that explains anything. The water runs off his palms. It's an unusual method, but it seems to be working for him.

Jaebeom feels the awkward silence starting to suffocate him.  
“Can I ask something?” Jinyoung says suddenly. Jaebeom isn’t detecting any semi-threatening subtext. He nods. “I don’t get why knowing all these things are so important. Like equilibrium. Isn’t it just.... a philosophy?”  
“Huh?”  
“A way of thinking. For 16 years, I haven’t heard of it once, but I haven’t died. Is it really _that_  important?”  
“Well,” Jaebeom has to admit, “it is just a... philosophy. Bambam believes in this thing called elemental passivity, where if he’s out in anything, he has to sit in a place where he can receive it passively. Like sitting in the aquarium if he’s out in water. He thinks if all your elements are at the exact same level, you’re not any more powerful. To be honest I’m the same. Not the passive thing, but being more powerful when you’re balanced. Don’t mention that around Jackson though. He loves the shit out of equilibrium.”  
“Jackson? Why?” Jinyoung seems surprised.

Jaebeom thinks about how Jackson stuttered around not saying it. Hell, he even lied to Jinyoung’s face. It's Jackson’s story to tell, but he also treats it like it’s the nuclear codes. He's a fifth year now. Jinyoung seems like he can keep a secret.  
“He has two souls. One is major fire and the other is major air, I don’t know about minors. Don’t bring it up with him until he tells you though. He’s touchy about it,” Jaebeom says. The genuine shock on Jinyoung’s face is priceless .  
“But that’s... doesn’t that make him more powerful?”  
“Not really. His souls share, but they aren’t combined. He has the same limit on both.”  
Jaebeom can almost see the cogs turning behind Jinyoung’s eyes. “That means he doesn’t have that much more potential. He just has two average souls in one body.”

“I understand that. But he told me he was a major fire minor air. Like he only had one. I couldn’t even... _feel_ the difference. Will he get expelled if the school finds out or something?” he asks.  
“What? No,” Jaebeom says. “The school knows. He only found out halfway through first year. You probably didn’t do this at your old school, but up until fourth year, at the end of every week you had to line up with your dorm, and the nurse soul searches you to make sure you’re balanced or whatever. So the nurse gets to Jackson, and she’s like _hold on_ ,” he imitates her nasal voice for effect. Jinyoung’s lips quirk in amusement. “And she yanks his shirt up like _this can’t be right... hyper air and hyper earth_ , and she sends him to the principal. Anyway, we don't see him for the rest of the day because they took him down to the hospital and figured out he has two souls.” Jaebeom has to pause to figure out how to deliver the next scene.  
“Is that it?” Jinyoung says, disappointed.  
“No. Because dormmates can be two years older than you, the asshole third years find out. He was in track practice one day- and he was having a shit day- the third year also in the team says _f_ _or someone with two souls, you can’t even clear two hurdles_. I know, lame insult, but he was destroyed. For people he was meant to look up to, to just... screw him over like that- and it wasn’t just one incident. We didn’t even find out what had been going on until a fight broke out a few weeks later.”

Jinyoung has the semblance of a frown, before his eyes widen at Jaebeom’s bucket. Water trickles down the sides at its fullness. He takes his hands off the sides of the bucket and the rain ceases.  
“Finished? I'm coming around to check,” Ms Salvio announces.  
“Fuck, I haven’t enchanted,” he says in a hushed voice.  
“By the way, what _is_  enchantment?” Jinyoung asks.  
“It’s... the state of being altered by magical qualities. You have enchant the water so it reflects a mood when it’s drunk,” Jaebeom says, gripping the slippery sides of the bucket in thought. What's a good emotion to enchant? Something strong and basic would be easy- but something more complex could get him good marks. Not that Gen. classes are marked in the traditional sense, but it could be worth the effort.  
“How do I... do that?” Jinyoung frowns at his own half filled bucket. Jaebeom does not groan.  
“Just- okay, you need to use the same part of your soul you just used to generate, but this time, feel the emotion you're giving it,” he says, cringing at his weird phrasing, but Jinyoung nods seriously. “If it helps, hold the bucket,” he adds as an afterthought. Jinyoung copies him in holding the sides of the bucket.

Back to his own bucket. The blue reflection ripples rhythmically. Fatigue could work as the mood. He wants nothing more than to crash and not wake up until the next week. He imagines the white noise of rain. Generating, after a while, makes him wants to drift off. He imagines Youngjae’s sleepy face. The soft expression, sleep talk, and drool on his cheek that Jaebeom got to wake up to last year. Seeing it today made him ache to be his roommate again. He realises with a jolt this is not exactly fatigue. Ms Salvio strides in front of them. Wordlessly, a whirlpool spins in Jaebeom’s bucket, a water spout twisting up to the teacher’s lips. She seems to wash it around her mouth, and every second she deliberates is suffocating.  
“I don't know what you did there, but it's pretty cute,” she shrugs, turning to Jinyoung's bucket and doing the same. He taps the bucket anxiously as she tastes it.

“Ah, I see. Not bad, just a little too much. You have to make it clear what the central mood is, and then add the extras,” she notes, and walks over to the next student. Jaebeom raises an eyebrow in question. Jinyoung looks between him and his own bucket with equal question. Jaebeom levitates some of Jinyoung’s water over, a sphere of it collecting in Jaebeom’s palm. He sucks it in slowly, the water collapsing and washing around his mouth. Jinyoung takes it as a cue to do the same with Jaebeom’s water, leaning over and cupping some into his mouth. All enchanted water tastes relatively the same, the pepperiness varying depending how strongly it was enchanted. Jinyoung is clearly new to it, which leads him to mistakenly believe it was not going to be strong, but the pepper burns, and the aftertaste is almost sour. Then the mood hits. It’s anguish, pity and listlessness. Ms was right about “too much”, the theme is dark and depressing but there’s so much extra frustration, melancholy, and anxiety. His stomach roils at the intensity.

Jaebeom is almost jealous of Jinyoung’s natural talent. Almost. Mood enchantments have a tendency of triggering memories as your body processes it, empathising and rationalising where you’ve felt it before. Jackson getting bullied in first grade. The sudden clarity makes him suspect Jinyoung used the story as a starting point. Jackson didn’t show up to dinner. He remembers getting an impending sense that something wasn't right, opening their dorm door, the mix of dread and relief seeing him curled up on his bed. Jaebeom couldn’t tell if he was sleeping or not, since he was facing the wall. Jaebeom walked over to check. He was staring at the brick wall. He didn’t respond to _where were you?_ so Jaebeom rolled him over. His eyes were black and blue. Dried blood matted his nose and his mouth. Jackson finally looked him in the eye and broke, puffy eyes welling up as he sat up and crawled into Jaebeom’s arms. He clung to Jaebeom so tightly, he could feel Jackson’s two distinct souls through his chest. The only other time he saw Jackson so broken was in third year, when he apparently got a phone call from his mom to say his older brother was in hospital. He didn’t tell anyone until his mom called the second time to deliver the news he passed away in surgery. Jaebeom wasn’t in his dorm that year, but they went to Gen. earth together with Youngjae and Mark. Jaebeom had a bad feeling from the delayed responses he was giving- blinking slow, and speech slurred. Jackson suddenly gripped Jaebeom’s arm for help, his hand burning Jaebeom’s arm. He’ll never forget the way he looked. Cheeks flushed and eyes glossed over, like he knew Jaebeom was there, but couldn’t find him. Jaebeom was the one to call the teacher. Jackson felt down his arm for his hand and shakily brought it to his chest. He was warm, too warm, chest moving in stutters. Despite the awkward angle, he felt the furnace of one soul, and the concrete of the other. He had worked himself into a hyperelemental crisis, and had to go to hospital. Jaebeom remembers feeling so helpless. He should have done more. He should have asked why he was acting so off when he first noticed it. The aftertaste is so sour it makes him want to retch, because it reminds him of why he’s so fucked up. Shaking under a table, watching the accomplice dump Youngjae’s father in front of Jaebeom’s dad. Unable to look away as they struggle. Stab after stab after stab lands in his father’s chest. The sound of his ragged and dying breaths fill the living room. Holding his hand to his mouth to muffle his own breathing. Jaebeom didn’t do anything. Listless and cold under the table, well after the killers had done their job and left.  
“Hey,” his shoulder is shaken. “Are you okay?” Jinyoung asks.

Jaebeom blinks, looking around. He’s still in Gen. water. Tears have trailed down to his chin. Fuck. He wipes his eyes haphazardly.  
“Yeah,” he forces a laugh, “it’s a strong enchantment.” There’s a deep frown etched into Jinyoung’s features, but he lets his shoulder go.  
“Yours too.”

The thing Jaebeom learned from fucking up, and watching others fuck up, is to tell people. Mark is a great listener, but Youngjae _understands_. That’s another thing he likes about Youngjae, he thinks as they sneak out the next weekend. They’re so close it almost feels inevitable he developed feelings.  
“How strong?” Youngjae asks.  
“So strong I cried. Told him how Jackson got bullied in first year, and he must have used it in enchanting, because it was like I relived it in HD,” Jaebeom answers. Youngjae is silent, but Jaebeom knows he’s listening.

They walk around the outside of the dining hall to the very front left corner of the school, where the imposing Amaranth Tree stands. To say it’s huge is an understatement. Its burgundy flowers from which it gets its name are visible from the city below. Vines hang from the long branches, and wild grass is thick around its base. Plants are _drawn_  to this tree. The Gen. earth teachers say it’s because the tree has a soul. Kicking up soil around it releases the smell of cayenne into the air, so Jaebeom isn’t disputing it’s definitely magical. Vines hang off branches like curtains, separating the trunk from the rest of the world. This isn’t Jaebeom’s favourite place, but he appreciates its otherworldly atmosphere. He definitely appreciates it’s Youngjae’s favourite place.

Unspoken, they brush through the vines, and Jaebeom sets to enchanting him.  
“And remember when Jackson had to go to hospital in third year? That was there too. Then for the grand finale, the day Dad died,” he sighs.  
“You want a hug?” Youngjae asks.  
“No.”  
“Too bad,” Youngjae says, tackling him in a hug. He should have expected it, but his skin still tingles where Youngjae snuggles into his neck. Youngjae squeezes him, and Jaebeom regrets the immediate strength enchantment, because he swears he feels his spine pop.  
“Now let’s get started!” Youngjae shouts in his ear, disentangling himself.

If Jaebeom was royalty, Youngjae is a _god._ The wild grass points to him like he’s the sun, then flowers spring up his footsteps. He pulls precious metals from the ground beneath him. He shapeshifts into everyone and anyone. He walks up the tree trunk like gravity doesn’t exist. Under his touch, the leaves change seasons. Jaebeom is in complete awe.  
“What’s the time?” Youngjae yawns, but in Mark’s voice.  
“Time to head back I guess,” Jaebeom replies, in his Youngjae-gifted-Bambam-voice. Youngjae snickers, walking over to him to pinch his cheeks. Jaebeom hates it, but in voicing his discomfort, his voice is back to normal.  
“Let’s go to the roof now,” Youngjae teases in his own voice, leading the way.

Being built on top of a mountain, the buildings are built disregarding the incline, so it isn’t hard to find places where the roofs are low enough to climb up on. Youngjae swings his arm around Jaebeom’s shoulder, something meant to feel comfortable, but Youngjae still has 12 strength enchantments. Just his fingers flicking his shoulder feels like getting hit by a bus.  
“Ow,” Jaebeom exclaims, only half-joking. Youngjae just barely refrains from hitting him playfully.  
“Wait-” he laughs, “-lift your arms up for a second.” Jaebeom does as he’s told, and Youngjae scoops him up like a princess. Jaebeom actually yelps, as Youngjae laughs again, and starts running back towards the school.

The roof of choice is the art block, all the way at the bottom of the school, but they both agree no one is going to find them. Gen. air isn’t held on a roof, but third floor of the demountables with all the windows open does a pretty good job. Youngjae boosts Jaebeom onto the tiled roof like he weighs nothing, and hoists himself up after. Jaebeom scooches up, and Youngjae follows. It’s unfortunately one of the stiller nights, so Jaebeom takes it upon himself to use his rusty air manipulation skills to get some air flow going. It could be any time from midnight to 4 AM, for all they know.

It’s the last time they’ll have to stay up late. The experiment was a success, he reflects. Strength enchantments work to extend the potential of the soul. He’s glad sneaking into the pool and almost getting hyperelementalism paid off, but that’s all it ends in. Strength enchantments are earth based. Youngjae could pretend to be a pro-wrestler and self-enchant to the high heavens, but Jaebeom wants to specialise in water. If he wants this as much as he thinks he does, he needs something more permanent than a strength enchantment. Youngjae closes his eyes to feel the artificial breeze Jaebeom still has going. He’s probably falling asleep.

“Hey,” Jaebeom starts. Youngjae opens an eye. “Don’t you wish you could be this powerful permanently?”  
Youngjae studies him before giving him an answer.  
“I don’t know. I might break the piano.”  
“No- I don’t mean the physical aspect. Just the magical. What if you were always this powerful?”  
“I guess... well I wouldn’t need to go to Gen. classes. No wait, if your soul’s infinite, I’d still take Gen. classes so I could do cool stuff in Combinations.”  
Jaebeom has to admire his pure answer, even with the misconceptions.  
“Okay, really think. What would you do outside of just school?”  
“Why? Oh no you’re not- Jaebeom what are you planning?”  
“What? I didn’t say anything about plans.”  
“ _Yet._ I know _you.”_ He opens his mouth as though he wants to say more, but Jaebeom hasn’t said anything but leading questions, so he just eyes him warily. Fuck he’s cute when he’s suspicious.

“Listen,” Jaebeom sighs, mustering as much charisma as he can in his tired state. “You’ve seen how powerful we get when we’re enchanted. We’re untouchable. We’d be gods, controlling everything and everyone around us. I could actually be a sorcerer and you could be the best musician to walk the earth.”  
Youngjae returns his smile, shaking his head  
“You’re out of your mind.”  
“Just listen. You can self sustain as a major earth. You could start now if you wanted to.”  
“But?”  
“No buts. For you at least. For me, I can’t.”  
Youngjae frowns.  
“But you said- I thought with the strength enchantments our soul has infinite potential. So you could be powerful in every element.”  
“That’s what Njorsson thought too. And then he tried fire magic and vented about his chest pains for 3 pages. Strength enchantments seem to hold one element pretty well, but taking on 2 or more needs something a bit more powerful.”  
“Njorsson didn’t even use strength enchantments though. Why’d he get chest pains?”  
“Because if you check the appendix, he sketched himself, and he’s built like a fuckin tank.”  
Youngjae hums in amusement. “So this is just an assumption, but he probably had the muscle power of three strength enchantments,” Jaebeom says.  
“Okay... but we layered on the enchantments. Won’t that make you so numb that you could handle all four past your natural limit?” Youngjae asks.

This is it, Jaebeom takes a deep breath. This is where he pitches his dumbest idea yet.  
“We’ve been applying enchantments to the _body._ Imagine how much more powerful it would be if we applied it to the _soul.”_ Youngjae’s eyes go as wide as saucers, and he doesn’t hesitate to nearly launch Jaebeom off the roof with a slap to his arm.  
“Are you actually insane?” he laughs.  
“I didn’t _say_  I was gonna do it,” Jaebeom manages to smile through the pain in his arm. “And even if I did, I wouldn’t know _how_ to do it.” Youngjae opens his mouth to say something, but quickly shuts it. “What?” Jaebeom prods.  
“That is very illegal. Not to mention _dangerous,”_ Youngjae says.  
“But if it worked, I’d have a future among the greats. More money than I’d know what to do with. I could keep people _safe._ I’d treat Mom like she deserves. And your mom,” Jaebeom argues. There’s a saying that warns about the addictiveness of power. Jaebeom didn’t have to pay it any consideration until this last experiment. It’s his own morbid curiosity, and his god-determined purpose to protect others. To make up for all the times he didn’t. Youngjae shakes his head in dismay.  
“You’re insane. Tell me why I’m supposed to help you with this again?” Jaebeom can’t stop himself from grinning.  
“Because I- we’re friends. Dumb shit is what friends do.”

Youngjae just rolls his eyes dramatically, smiling. The clouds above have drifted, and the moon now shines directly on their faces. Youngjae could honestly be an angel. Jaebeom wants to protect him from all the horrors of this world forever. He wants to wake up next to him ten, twenty years from now, and watch the sunlight fall on his skin the same way the moon does. Youngjae makes a confused face at Jaebeom’s unfocused staring, so he looks away. But Youngjae is straight. Jaebeom glances at him unconsciously. All of his worries seem to melt away.  
“Question: what do you think about gay people?” Jaebeom asks, somehow without choking.  
“That’s... random?” Youngjae laughs. “But they’re fine? You do remember we all accepted Jackson coming out as bisexual.” Jaebeom nods. Jackson is half the reason Jaebeom even started questioning. Youngjae is the other half. “Why?” Youngjae asks, knowing smile already in place.

“There’s this... _boy_  that I like,” Jaebeom shrugs.  
“Who?” Youngjae leans forward, “oh my god is it the new kid?”  
“No,” Jaebeom splutters, already regretting coming out.  
“Do I know him?” Youngjae asks.  
“...Yes.” Jaebeom’s heart beats uncomfortably loud in his chest. Fuck. Jaebeom needs to throw him off before he figures it out.  
“Yoongi?” Youngjae immediately guesses.  
“What? No!”  
“Oh my god don’t tell me... it’s Mark!”  
“No!”  
“All those times you complained about being smothered with a pillow- he was enabling your choking kink!”  
“Youngjae whatthefuck _no._ ”  
“It’s okay, I’m not judging. But really, who is it?”  
Jaebeom feels like he has been set on fire. He has just three seconds to put himself out before he’s burned alive. He can’t really tell him. Youngjae is so excited he can’t pick which of Jaebeom’s eyes to concentrate on. Jaebeom can’t bear to ruin this moment.  
“I can’t tell you,” he says, and Youngjae’s smile slides off his face.  
“What? Why?” he whines. “I thought you said we were friends!”  
“We _are,”_ Jaebeom says. _That’s all we’ll ever be_ , he doesn’t say.  
“Then why can’t you tell me?” Youngjae says hotly  
“I just... can’t. I can’t tell you.” His silence is deafening. It’s almost as though Jaebeom can see the walls go up behind his eyes. “Youngjae-“  
“It’s fine. I get it,” he says, scooching down to get off the roof. Jaebeom should have expected this. But it’s for the best. He takes one last look at his glossy brown hair. He’ll get over it. Just like Jaebeom will get over him.

“Where were _you two_  last night? Getting  _warm_ together?” Jackson announces to everyone in the hallway. Mark rolls his eyes at his antics. Jinyoung holds his offended ear in mock pain. Jaebeom just shoots him a pointed glare.  
“Ha ha Jackson,” Youngjae says, tone particularly venomous.  
“Anyway we’re gonna go study. Are you coming? Or... _getting warm together_ ~” Jackson says dramatically.  
“You? Study?” Jaebeom laughs, Jackson pushes past sulking, and they fall into step with them to the library.  
“I’m serious this time,” Jackson says.  
“Yeah remember when you said that last time and then you fell asleep,” Youngjae adds.  
“This time will be different!”

Less than twenty minutes later, Jaebeom is watching Jackson fold old homework sheets into origami dogs. He does so with a speed that can only means he has dedicated way too much time to his craft.  
“What are you doing?” Jaebeom asks.  
“Shh. Just wait!” Jackson hisses, and the paper dogs in each hand come to life. He sets them down on the table, and they rush each other, silently yipping and chasing each other around. Jackson frowns. “No... you’re meant to be _friends_!"  
Jaebeom is uncomfortably aware of Youngjae’s presence sitting diagonally to him. Jaebeom ignores him and finishes another few questions on his math sheet. When he looks over at Jackson again, the dogs are sniffing each other’s butts. Jackson looks on proudly. Jaebeom only has to lay a hand on the table, and the paper dogs suddenly pause, popping back to their rigid, folded form.  
“What happened to studying?” he asks innocently. Jackson strokes their heads with his finger tips, reanimating them.  
“Got boring.” He yawns for effect. Jaebeom deanimates them again.  
“What are you up to?”  
“Biorhythms. I don’t want to draw the graphs. You know how many pages Joshua has? _Ten. Ten_ whole _fucking pages_ he had to sticky tape together,” Jackson grumbles, his taut expression relaxing when he looks up from his creations. Jaebeom follows his gaze to see Bambam and Yugyeom approaching.

Without warning, Yugyeom bursts into tears at the sight of them.  
“Hello?” Jaebeom says, and 140 pounds of tears crushes him in a hug. Yugyeom curls his freakishly long legs up on the chair as he settles into Jaebeom’s lap. He sobs and hiccups, but doesn’t explain a thing. Jaebeom looks to Bambam for help. Bambam shrugs one shoulder.  
“He just remembered how much homework he has due. Anyway, we’re looking for a book on fire divination?” he says, looking between each of their faces for a lick of knowledge, when he baulks at Jinyoung.  
“This is Park Jinyoung. Jinyoung, meet Bambam,” Jackson quickly introduces Bambam, who smiles brightly, “and Yugyeom.” Jaebeom can’t see over Yugyeom’s fluffy head of hair, but he must give some type of acknowledgement.

“Why are you guys looking for fire divination?” Youngjae pipes up, confusion evident.  
“Mr Valdus said whoever proves divination in every element gets four dollars,” Bambam says proudly.  
“Four dollars isn’t a lot,” Mark says, “charge him double if no one else does it.”  
“Don’t worry, I think I know a way,” Jackson says, unfolding one of his paper dogs. Yugyeom sits up straight in Jaebeom’s lap, digging his bony ass into Jaebeom’s thighs. Jaebeom almost shoves him into the table, but Yugyeom gets up on his own.

“Probably dont take this super seriously, but like. You need oracle bone. Turtle shell works, but ox scapula is way better,” Jackson rambles, and the unfolded paper in question levitates and folds into a turtle shell, and then what Jaebeom can only assume is an ox scapula. Clearly the dogs were only the beginning of the origami problem. Bambam and Yugyeom wear matching faces of skepticism. “Then! Carve your question or thing you wanna know into the bone.” The paper refolds so Jackson’s handwriting is on the outside. “Then light that shit up! It cracks from the heat, so if it cracks this way or this way,” the paper tears on the right side, then on the top, “it’s a good idea. It’ll happen. But if it cracks the other ways, you should wait.”  
“I should wait?” Bambam asks.  
“I don’t know. That’s what Mum says the ancestors did,” Jackson answers. There’s a moment of silence as Bambam and Yugyeom look between each other with hesitation.  
“Can I?“ Jinyoung points at the still floating paper.

Jackson nods, and Jinyoung takes it, unfolding it. “I don’t mean to offend you,” he directs at Jackson, “but there is a simpler way.” Jinyoung folds the paper in half. “People used to do this with blessed salt or sand, but paper works. You could write down your question, or say it aloud.” He sets the paper to float in midair. “Then set it alight. If the smoke is white and wispy, it’s a good idea. If it’s anything else,” Jinyoung taps the suspended paper, making it scorched black in an instant, “it’s a bad idea.” Everyone is speechless. All Jaebeom can think is, _he set fire to a piece of paper in the fucking library_.

Trying to fall out of love with Youngjae hurts. He didn’t realise how many things they did together until he’s doing them alone. Youngjae thinks he doesn’t trust him. He knows this, because when he grabbed him and asked him to stop being weird, Youngjae said _so you can tell Jinyoung, the_  new _kid, all of Jackson’s secrets, but you can’t tell me_ ,  _your_ best friend _, who you like?_  It hurts, because Jaebeom _does_  trust him. It’s just that he doesn’t trust himself not to fuck their entire friendship by saying something stupid. Then less than a week later, Youngjae sets down a pile of books at their study table.  
“I found a way to do it.”  
“Huh?”  
Youngjae slides him the stack of books.  
“A way. To become a god, or whatever bullshit you managed to convince me with. I put it in a notebook because there was no way I was getting flagged for borrowing books on soul piercings and direct soul magic,” he says, raking a hand through his hair. Jaebeom tries and fails to not think about how hot that was. “Anyway- you have to get a... special magic-y knife, and a... well I give you two theories. Just read it.”  
“Thank you,” Jaebeom says earnestly. Youngjae sighs, slumping in his chair across from him.  
“I’m gonna be honest, even after reading _that,”_ he points to the textbook  _The Physiology of a Soul_ , “I’m no doctor. And that’s what all soul doctors read in med school. I really advise you, _don’t_  trust me any more than you already.”  
“Youngjae, I do trust you.”  
“No you don’t,” he says.  
“You don’t choose. What are you so worked up about?”  
“This is a really dumb idea,” he says suddenly, looking at the books. “Like actually _really_ stupid. You have to... pull things from the earth. _Import_ things to make this knife. That’s... it makes it too real. You’re permanently altering your soul. You know you could be scarred for life if you get anything slightly wrong. You could _die.”_ Youngjae says, fiddling absently with his ring.

Jaebeom breathes in deeply, trying to settle his racing mind. Three words sit like lead on his tongue. He wants to back out and get his dumb gay ass together. The longer it stays in his mouth, the heavier it gets.  
“I know,” he starts. “I wouldn’t have even suggested it if I didn’t think we could do it though. ” Youngjae shakes his head.  
“Why did you ask me in the first place?” he asks quietly, staring at his ring, then up at Jaebeom through his lashes. Jaebeom catches his line of thought with a quickness that makes his stomach roll.  
“Don’t make out like I manipulated you,” Jaebeom says.  
“Why didn’t you pick anyone else then? Mark. Jinyoung. That stupid boy you like. I’m sure you could have _shared theories_  with them too.”

It’s so heavy it hurts.  
“I _did_  ask the boy I like. And I didn’t _share theories_. Every time he asked for a plan, I gave him one.” Youngjae’s eyes go wide.  
“What?” he says, scrutinising Jaebeom’s face for answers. Jaebeom’s heart is beating so fast, he’s sure it’s about to rocket out of his chest.  
“Youngjae. The boy I like. It’s _you_.”

“Oh,” Youngjae says. Jaebeom feels like he’s been set alight, but this time, Youngjae is the one who must put it out. Youngjae doesn’t. “I’m- that’s- are you joking?”  
Jaebeom remains silent. Youngjae pours on the gasoline. “Oh no. I mean- I’m sorry. We’re like brothers, though. Sorry. Oh no,” he looks between him and the offending pile of books with realisation. “That’s- that’s why you picked me? I’m not- I can’t help you. Anymore. I can’t. Sorry,” he stutters, pushing his chair out, and hurrying out.


	3. Bonding in the Nineteenth Century

Jaebeom does what anyone else would do. He cries in the shower, and drowns himself in homework. He expects Band to be weird, but Youngjae keeps a friendly level of professionalism. Youngjae does this with every class they have together- except now he goes to Gen. earth when Jaebeom goes to Gen. water. Jaebeom spins himself in circles trying to figure out why, until he realises Youngjae doesn’t want to be alone with him.

Jaebeom builds the knife anyway. The other thing Youngjae wrote were ideas for administering strength enchantments. He could make some sort of charm that bestows strength unto the holder, but it’s a fixed amount, not the exponential strength that he wants. The other option is a device that should be programmed to administer strength enchantments every 30 minutes, but he has no idea how he could program magic. He doesn’t know how he’s going to get either thing imbedded in his soul. He’s still struggling to figure out how a special knife is even meant to touch his soul. But he builds it. Months of pouring over  _The Physiology of a Soul_  and _Smelting For Beginners_ , pouring money into taking the trains to his mom’s place to build his makeshift little forge in her backyard, risking hyperelementalism trying to pull the right materials out the ground, pretending to be fancy rock collector to get his hands on the weird exotic metals. There’s countless practice knives and failed knives buried deep in the garden bed.  
Everything has led him to the cloudless winter morning where the finished product sits in his pocket.

He knows the knife back to front, but he still fiddles with it in his pocket. Maybe Youngjae had more of a scalpel in mind, considering what he’s meant to do with it, but Jaebeom always imagined a jack knife. Thin, sabre clipped with a scandi grind, hand sanded to very fine finish. It’s whiter than it is grey, and when it’s held to the light, it has a rainbow sheen. Nice, a gay pride knife. He tested it on the Amaranth Tree, nicking the trunk, and he could smell the pepper on his knife. Cutting out a bit of the tree, he fashions the wood and remaining knife metal into the device that would hold however many enchantments he wanted. He can’t figure out how to test it, but it should work. He didn’t spend this much time and effort for it to shit itself.

He’s eating breakfast, when the knife falls out of his pocket. It clatters on the wooden floor unmistakably loud.  
“What’s that? MP3?” Jackson asks, watching him pick it back up beside him. Everyone else is watching.  
“Huh? Oh, yeah,” Jaebeom says, slipping it back in his pocket.  
“Can I see it?” Jackson asks.  
“No, it’s- I’ll show you later,” he replies. Some dumb selfish part of him wants recognition for his decent craftsmanship, but most of him his screaming because he has no idea how to justify a magical fucking _knife_  on school grounds.

Jackson pesters him about it right after breakfast. No one else is looking. Jaebeom slips the folded knife discreetly out of his pocket. Jackson frowns.  
“This isn’t an MP3.”  
“No, it’s a knife,” Jaebeom says, opening it. Jackson gasps.  
“Why do you have a knife? Oh my god, don’t let Namjoon see you,” he hisses, looking over his shoulder.  
“Because... I like knives?”  
“You? Knives? Since when- fuck that’s Suho put it away. Since when do you like knives? You know they’re banned at school, right? So why do you _really_  have a knife?”  
“I told you,” Jaebeom answers, swallowing thickly around the lump forming in his throat, “I like knives now. Maybe you didn’t know _because_  they’re banned. Anyway I haven’t done Math homework.” Jaebeom runs the stairs two steps at a time, but he still catches Jackson’s _you? math homework incomplete?_

Jaebeom manages to avoid him for most of the day, and Jackson is careful not to say it aloud at lunch, so that leads him to the assumption Jackson will drop it. Jaebeom has never been so horribly wrong. Jaebeom is barely in the door before Jackson fucking pounces him in front of everyone.  
“So help me god Lim Jaebeom if you don’t tell me what the fuck you’re gonna do with that knife, I’m reporting you straight to the headmistress don’t fucking test me!” he says way too loud. The metal weighs like an anchor in his pocket. He’s itching to hold it, but he doesn’t want to risk Jackson snatching it. Bambam walks in the front door and goes to ask _what's with the weird mood?_  but a look at Jackson’s tense form kills all questions. The rest of them of are on the sofa and the armchairs, watching with wide eyes. Except Youngjae. Youngjae doesn’t look at him.

Jaebeom breathes in and out before answering.  
“I found a book in the library a while ago. _An Experiment in Power_. It’s by this guy who figured out by becoming physically stronger his soul’s potential increased. He’s saying your soul’s potential limit is your physical body.” Jackson is silent, still watching him with a piercing gaze. He usually does this until he gets the answer he wants. Jaebeom takes another breath. “Imagine not having to worry about equilibrium. You could become as powerful as you wanted, in any element you wanted. So why take the time to train your body, when there’s a thing called strength enchantments.”  
“You’re not serious,” Yugyeom says, looking for any hint of a joke.  
“The only problem with that is it’s an earth based enchantment. Try and do it on yourself, and switch between elements too fast, and the enchantment wears off. You’re straight into a hyperelemental crisis. Imagine, instead of changing your body to fit your soul, you could just change your soul.” Jackson’s eyes go wide, and he’s about to argue, when Bambam beats him to it.

“Cool idea, but you’re really gonna jump into that without any other information? How do you even know that’d work? Like you said, the body dictates the soul. How would changing the soul be any better?” he says. Youngjae is still looking away.  
“And how does the knife factor into it?” Jinyoung adds.  
“I  _know_  because I’ve _tested_  the physical enchantments. I’ve physically enchanted to the fucking moon. I’ve been thinking about it since we got back from summer break. I’ve read around soul manipulation backwards and forwards. I know the risk I’m taking. Don’t think I wouldn’t go into this without a plan.”  
“No,” Jackson says stubbornly. “I am _not_  letting you fuckin’ bootleg _soul surgery_ , because guess what? One of those risks is getting yourself-“ he cuts himself off as the door opens to one of the sixth years, Yoongi.

It’s uncharacteristically silent for a moment. Yoongi seems affronted by everyone watching him, but thankfully doesn’t ask what’s going on. “Hi,” Jackson mumbles. Yoongi nods in greeting, walking past them to the bathroom. They don’t resume until they hear the shower running. “You could get yourself fucking _killed_ ,” Jackson says, and Jaebeom remembers exactly why Jackson was last on his list of telling people.  
“You didn’t test _direct_  soul enchantment either,” Jinyoung says. Jaebeom’s skin prickles.  
“That doesn’t mean I don’t know how to _read_ ,” he replies.  
“And Jackson asked what you were doing with the knife. Reading doesn’t matter if you can’t explain it yourself,” Jinyoung crosses his arms.

Jaebeom is so close to losing his shit.  
“You really want to know what the knife does?” he asks. “Fine. In your soul you have 4 chambers: one for air, one for fire, one for water, and one for earth. The knife is to collapse my air and fire chambers permanently to make room for water. I made a charm that will give me as much strength as I need and I’ll fit it in my earth chamber. Happy?”  
“No!” Jackson shouts, ”are you fucking _kidding_  me? You can’t put physical objects into your soul!”  
“I can, and I fucking will! I’m done caring what you guys think. Go fuck yourselves.” Jackson gasps. The following silence is tense. It’s so quiet, you could hear a pin drop, or a mouse within the walls, or Mark say under his breath, “We get it, you have daddy issues.”

Everyone explodes at once. Jaebeom lunges for Mark, but Jackson catches him by the collar. Yugyeom is crying. Jinyoung shoves himself in between Jaebeom and Jackson to separate them.  
“Stop! Stop it!” he shouts, his voice resonating through the whole living room. “Let him learn his lesson for himself,” he says, eyeing Jaebeom with a look that could only be described as disappointed.  
“Do it then,” Jackson says to Jaebeom, a world of hurt and pure anger in his dark eyes. “I don’t care either.”

Everything falls apart after that. Offense is _extremely_  awkward. Youngjae doesn’t even to pretend to be friendly anymore. Jinyoung will, under no circumstance, be seen talking to him in Offense. Jackson’s whole being seems to radiate an effort to not fight when their eyes meet. That effort must have failed, because as soon as they get out of class, Jackson storms up to him and shoves him.  
“You’re so powerful _now_  aren’t you? Aren’t you _so_  happy you didn’t die?”  
Jaebeom can’t answer him, because he hasn’t gone through with it yet, but he doesn’t want to give Jackson the satisfaction. The silence just makes Jackson angrier. He’s wound up like a viper, ready to strike. “I wish you _would_  fucking _kil_ -" he’s cut off by Jinyoung’s hand on his shoulder.  
“He’ll learn,” Jinyoung says, fingers digging into Jackson’s blazer. Jinyoung meets Jaebeom’s eyes briefly in a cold, throwaway glance. Jaebeom’s not sure which is worse; someone who’s taken it upon himself to guilt trip him at every opportunity, or someone who seems like he never cared in the first place.

Jaebeom eats alone at lunch. He lines up, gets his food, and walks straight out of the hall, going down behind the gymnasium to the back of the pool. The sun’s too bright to be sitting beside the fence, so he sits in the gap between the pool and the aquarium, where the shade protects him. It’s so fucking cold outside, but it’s better than trying to find some other table to sit inside. Jaebeom sits outside for the whole week, until Saturday, where he just holes himself in with homework and intensive study. At least that was his plan.  
“Psst,” someone whispers. Jaebeom turns in his chair. Yugyeom has his head poked in the door. “Come to the library with me!” he whisper-shouts.  
“Why?” Jaebeom asks, standing up. Yugyeom just waves excitedly for him to come.

Jaebeom doesn’t realise it until they start walking, but Yugyeom’s grown taller than him. A guilty voice inside of him says _you would know this if you sat with them at lunch, coward_.“So,” Jaebeom says, trying to fill the awkward silence, “how is everyone?”  
“Same as usual,” Yugyeom waves his hand, “except now your name is banned at the table, cos’ it sets everyone off. Especially Jackson. Well actually, yesterday he was complaining about you without any of us bringing it up. He said you’re a coward, but I think now he just misses you. We all miss you. Even Jinyoung. He has this frown when he looks at your seat- oh yeah, we left your spot empty. I don’t know. It just happened. Anyways, everyone’s alright.”

Until now, Jaebeom has been able to justify himself by boiling it down to friends versus dreams. Now that he thinks about it, maybe it looks more like friends versus self-centred desire. For days, all he could think about was the heavy silence after he said _g_ _o fuck yourselves_. That’s enough to kill someone in Jaebeom’s books. But they still leave his seat empty. Jaebeom was angry, sure, but he was out of line.  
“Hey Yugyeom,” he says.  
“Yeah?”  
“I’m sorry. For what I said on Monday.”  
“Okay, but I’m not the one you should be saying sorry to,” Yugyeom says, pointing at the study table where the other five sit.

Bambam is standing as though he was just lecturing them. Jackson, who is sitting next to Bambam, and in sight of Jaebeom approaching, spits, “What is _he_  doing here?”  
Yugyeom, with a hand on Jaebeom’s back, points him gently toward the empty seat between Mark and Jinyoung.  
“Just wait,” Bambam says to Jackson. Jaebeom hesitantly takes the empty seat as Jackson stares him down. “Right, so!” Bambam announces, probably a little loud for a library, “this weird tension thing? Stops here. I fuckin’ hate coming to lunch to see you guys bitch about JB.”  
“Don’t swear,” Jinyoung mumbles to himself.  
“You guys know it doesn’t feel right unless it’s the seven of us,” Yugyeom says, standing beside Bambam.  
“So make up right now,” Bambam says. Jaebeom would apologise, but somehow he doesn’t think Jackson will do the same. No one says anything.

“That’s what I thought might happen,” Bambam sighs, procuring a book from his chair beneath him and puts in on the table, “so we thought this might help.” Jaebeom can’t read the title. Youngjae and Jackson look between each other, confused.  
“Okay now everybody hold hands!” Yugyeom cheers.  
“What? Why?” Youngjae asks as Mark says, “No thanks.”  
Yugyeom defiantly holds Bambam’s hand. Bambam holds his hand out for Jackson. Jackson grumbles, but takes his hand anyway.  
“Hold hands or I’ll curse you,” Bambam directs at Mark. Mark grumbles, but takes Youngjae’s and Jaebeom’s hands. Yugyeom reaches over and makes Jinyoung and Jaebeom holds hands. Jinyoung has a soft hand. This is really gay, he thinks, staring at the book in the middle of the table.

Everything goes blindingly white for a second. Jaebeom panics and tries to free his hands. He gets his left, but his right is trapped in Jinyoung’s tight grasp. He feels like he’s suffocating under layers of bubble wrap, but he can see again, and he tries to communicate to Jinyoung to let go. Jinyoung looks up at him with wide eyes. Vertigo overwhelms him, and for a moment, he sees his own panicked face. He crashes back to reality in a blink. Jinyoung still has his hand in a vice grip.  
“Hey,” Jaebeom says, shaking his wrist.  
“Oh. Sorry,” Jinyoung says, letting him go.  
“I don’t know about you, but I _still_  don’t feel like getting along with _that_  asshole,” Jackson yawns dramatically. Yugyeom looks crushed, his eyes watering.  
“Huh. Maybe it didn’t work?” Bambam murmurs, patting Yugyeom’s back. “Hey, everyone hold hands again!”  
“ _No_ ,” they answer collectively.

Jaebeom asks Mark later if he had the same, disembodied feeling. Mark frowns and says,  _that’s what it was? Huh. I thought it was more like every emotion at once. You got it too though? Thank fuck, I thought Bambam actually cursed me for a second_. The vertigo returns when he’s trying to sleep. It’s like he has laid down on a ship in a rocky sea. He dreams his body starts changing, his fingers growing longer, his lips swelling, his skin tanning. That’s the dream he remembers vividly. The other one is explicit and definitely weird to think about someone he just held hands with in that way. He wakes up to incessant alarm clock beeping and feels just as weird. There’s something not right with his room. Maybe it’s because the empty bed beside him indicates Mark is awake and dressed _before_  the alarm went off.

He stares blankly at the blaring machine. It’s 07:26. That’s four minutes until breakfast, he thinks sleepily. Then he really realises  _fuck, it’s four minutes until breakfast_. Fuck Mark for not waking him up. His clothes are in the wrong place. His shoes are in the wrong place. He finger-combs his hair and hopes it looks alright. By the time he gets down the stairs, he’s wheezing, and breakfast has already been served. During the week he skipped breakfast, but weekend breakfast is scrambled eggs and sausages, he can’t afford to miss it and look what he fuckin did. His table of friends are all staring at him from the doorway. Yugyeom and Bambam flail their arms to wave him over. It’s not until he’s close enough that he literally _sees_  himself sitting in Jinyoung’s spot that he realises why he’s been feeling so weird. He’s not in his own body.  
“What did you do!” his doppelgänger says  
“Me? I woke up like this!” he croaks, recognising with horror who he sounds like. He’s in Jinyoung’s body.


	4. Introduction to Family Law, 2nd ed.

Now that the only thing that _belongs_  to Jaebeom is his brain, he racks it to figure out why the fuck he woke up in the wrong body. The dream. The vertigo. The weird hand-holding circle.   
“What the _fuck_  was in that book?” he points a finger at Bambam.   
“It’s not the book! Jinyoung already made me check it a hundred times!” he says.   
Jackson looks between Jaebeom and Jinyoung, before choosing the Jinyoung in Jaebeom’s body to soul search. Jinyoung flinches, and all Jaebeom can think is _there's no way I actually look like that_.   
“They- You- You’re actually _Jinyoung?”_ Jackson squeaks.   
“That’s what I _told_  you,” Jinyoung says. Jaebeom barely recognises his own voice.

“Maybe they have to pretend to be each other, and it’ll fix itself?” Youngjae offers. Jackson looks offended.   
“Have you _ever_  seen a romantic comedy? They have to _do_  something before they can switch back.”   
“That’s gay,” Bambam and Yugyeom say at the exact same time.   
“I don’t know what the fuck is going on anymore” Mark mumbles.

“Can I just read the book?” Jaebeom pleads. Bambam fishes it out of his satchel, and hands it to him. It’s a dusty hardback that reads _Bonding in the Nineteenth Century_. It takes a moment, but his heart stops when he makes the connection.   
“Wait a fucking minute,” he says, pitch uneven as he tries to get used to Jinyoung’s voice, “don’t tell me this book is about _soul_  bonding.” Bambam blinks, mouth forming an O when he realises it too.   
“Oh my god,” Jackson says, hitting his forehead.   
“But why did we _switch bodies?”_ Jinyoung whines. It’s the most distressed he’s ever seen Jinyoung, even though he’s in Jaebeom’s body.

“How do we unbond?” Jaebeom says, flicking through to the index.   
“That’s not the spirit of the soul bond,” Yugyeom whines.   
“You do know soul bonds are like marriage, right? They’re for _life_ ,” Jaebeom says, frantically trying to find a relevant page.   
“You forced me to marry _Jackson?_ Are you kidding me?” Mark says after some deliberation.   
“Hey, I thought _I_  was married to Jackson,” Youngjae frowns. Jackson palms his chest with a deep frown.   
“I fucking soul bonded _both souls?”_  
Yugyeom laughs fearfully.   
“You see... we thought this was about _friendship_... and I dunno know how to... _divorce_  you all,” Yugyeom says, wringing his hands.  
“Let’s make the best out of a bad situation, okay?” Bambam says tentatively.  
The bell goes off overhead. Jaebeom can’t get his eyes to focus on the words in front of him, because he is _thrumming_  with anxious energy. Jinyoung has his head in his hands. Or Jaebeom’s head in his hands.

He’s so fucking confused.   
“What are you doing now?” Jaebeom asks him. Jinyoung looks up with a jerk.   
“Oh. Um, I was meant to go study Combinations with Jackson and Peniel. What were you doing?”   
“Band practice,” Jaebeom answers, looking to Youngjae for help.   
“Oh- ah, I can tell Chanyeol you were sick,” Youngjae smiles weakly.   
“Thanks,” Jaebeom says.   
“Well come on then,” Jackson sighs, walking ahead of Jaebeom. Maybe this is karmic revenge for telling them all to fuck off. Or for having weird dreams about Jinyoung.   
  
If there’s anything Jaebeom knows, it’s that he _sucks_  at Combinations. He’d hoped by being in Jinyoung’s body, it might be easier, but it turned out a false hope. They’re meant to be practicing making ice, which is using water _and_  air at the _same time_. It’s too much coordination for Jaebeom. Jackson doesn’t even help. He just says _wow, you’re so bad today_ , and fucking _snickers_  at him. Even Peniel says _rough morning?_  So when they wrap up just before lunch, Jaebeom has never been more relieved to see himself. In fact, he’s so relieved he feels his gut lurches, and his vision is bombarded with colours. He rubs his eyes. He’s looking at Jinyoung, not himself. Jaebeom looks down at his hands in wonder. They’re actually  _his_  hands.

After lunch, Jaebeom retreats to his room. His bed has never been more inviting, and soft, and comforting. This is what he’ll mood enchant next time he has Gen. water: the relief of being in your own body, in your own bed. He’s officially ready for a midday nap. Unfortunately, his blissful peace is interrupted by someone knocking on the door.   
“Come in,” Jaebeom groans.   
The door opens to none other than Jinyoung.   
“Hi. Just wanted to talk about what happened this morning,” he says, slipping in and closing the door behind him.   
“Go ahead,” Jaebeom sits up. Jinyoung surveys the room for a bit, before crossing his arms.  
“Okay, well first off, you’re left-handed. I didn’t realise that until I was trying to study with your right.”  
Jaebeom scrunches his nose.  
“I’ll have you know I’m fairly ambidextrous. Trying to correct your little study sheet with  _your_  left was a _mess_.”  
Jinyoung just seems amused.  
“Good. Then rule number one is don’t switch bodies unless it’s an emergency,” he says with a smile.   
“What if it’s an accident like today?”  
“Then we should... find each other. That worked at lunch. If it doesn’t, tell one of us so they know.”  
Jaebeom wants to remark on how Jackson was a complete pain in the ass just this morning, but maybe Mark or Youngjae would be more helpful.

“Second rule: don’t tell anyone that didn’t get tripped up in the whole... soul bond clusterfuck.” Jaebeom can’t believe the saints in front of him just _swore_.  
“C-clusterfuck?”  
“Yes,” Jinyoung says without skipping a beat, “because what Yugyeom and Bambam did was _fairly_  illegal.” He pulls a thick book from his satchel, opening it to a bookmarked page. Jaebeom catches the words _Introduction to Family Law_  on the front. “Right here,” Jinyoung clears his throat, “ _As per the 1902 Soul Marriage Act, the legal age an individual may consent to a soul marriage is 18 years of age_. Not a single one of us is eighteen.”  
“What the fuck happened in 1902 for a whole act to be passed?” Jaebeom asks. He’s kind of impressed Jinyoung has already gone to the trouble of researching it.

He snaps the book shut.  
“Forced soul marriage was rampant in the nineteenth century, as a way of securing land, money and social status. This is because people who were bound by their souls were considered less likely to be unfaithful partners. Plus, as you’d know, the partners in question did not even have to _consent_. This made it easier to sell your feminist daughter away, because she ultimately didn’t get a choice. Then towards the end of the century, people started voicing their abhorrent displeasure at being soul bonded to someone they didn’t love. Social unrest led to the Act. Of course, I don’t think Bambam and Yugyeom read that far into their book.” Jaebeom is sure he has never heard Jinyoung say that much the entire time he’s known him.   
“So... we’re in an illegal marriage?” is all he can respond with.   
“Yes. That’s why it stays between us seven.”  
“Makes sense. Okay. Is there a third rule?”

Jinyoung chews his cheek, eyes searching Jaebeom’s face like he’s weighing up whether or not he should say it.   
“Yes. It’s like a rule 2.1. _Because_  only we know, we have to be able to act like each other. So no one else catches on. That makes rule number three: be honest and open with each other.” Jinyoung’s ears are flaming pink. “There’s something you should know about me,” he says, an arm covering his stomach. Oh god. Is he gay? No way. Jinyoung looks as straight as a square.   
“I’ve been.. soul bonded before.” Jaebeom blinks. He has two souls? At least he’s not gay. Or maybe that would have been a good thing. Jaebeom is fucking terrified of coming out, but they could have actually had something in common.   
  
“Are you... still bonded to them?” he asks.   
“No,” Jinyoung says quickly. “It’s not- I’m not like Jackson. It’s rare someone gets bonded to more than one person at time. Monogamy and all that. But last time, I didn’t _switch bodies_. We were just path bonded.”  
“Path bonded?”  
“It’s where you hear the other person’s thoughts. So... that’s me. The sooner we figure out how to unbond, the better.”  
“Wait- how did you get out of it last time?”  
“He, um,” Jinyoung starts, looking everywhere but Jaebeom. _He_ _?_ It was a _he?_  
“He died,” Jinyoung says finally.   
“Oh. Sorry for your loss,” Jaebeom says.   
“What? No- we weren’t like _that._  He was just a friend. I got caught up in a prank,” Jinyoung splutters.   
“Ah. Sorry anyway. Was kind of worried about getting into a marriage with a divorced man, but I guess since you’re just a widower I’ll be fine,” Jaebeom says, trying to lighten the mood. It manages to replace Jinyoung’s tense expression with a smile.

They only occasionally wake up in each other’s bodies, but for the most part, Jaebeom gets used to it. Jaebeom is used to pushing his soul into his chest for soul searching, so he uses that feeling to _feel_  his soul. The switch comes with this lurching feeling in his gut, which he can trigger pretty well by squeezing his soul down in his stomach. If not for rule one, Jaebeom definitely would have used this for mischief. But _because_  rule one exists, they make it through the next few weeks without much drama.

It’s apparently too little drama for Jinyoung’s liking.   
“Why does no one go into the city on weekends?” Jinyoung asks, sitting on Jaebeom’s empty bed. Jaebeom mutters _I dunno_  from the desk, and Mark makes a non-committal grunt. “Don’t you get bored studying all weekend?”  
“Actually I don’t have the attention span,” Mark says, gesturing to the comic in his hands.   
“Maybe I don’t feel like getting jumped and murdered?” Jaebeom answers.   
“Murdered? What do you think is _in_  the city?” Jinyoung asks. Jaebeom can’t believe he has to say this.   
“I don’t know about you, but I’m _here_  because it was too dangerous out there as a kid.”  
“What about now?”  
“Now? Don’t tell me you’re serious.”  
“Come to the city with me. I already finished all my homework earlier in the week, and I revised all yesterday. I know for a fact you finished all of _your_  homework too. You said so in Gen. water.” Jaebeom shuts his history textbook with a thud.   
“Fine. You got me.”  
“Mark, do you wanna come too?”  
Mark puts the comic down on his chest, looking between them.   
“I don’t know,” he hums, “without Jackson? That’s betrayal of the highest tier. Nah, I’ll cover you guys.”

The city is quite... city-like. Jaebeom doesn’t have a real point of comparison, having grown up in a township, but the streets stretch on forever, and the buildings are giants. There’s a surprising amount of people out and about, in cars, in cafés, on the sidewalk. He and Jinyoung walk so deep into the concrete jungle, Jaebeom can’t remember which way they came from.  
“So... what do people _do_  in the city?” he asks. Jinyoung stops in his tracks.   
“What do you mean _what do people do in the city?_ We can do whatever we want. Does no one come to the city, ever?”  
“I don’t know. Jackson used to make us play basketball if we got bored. Other than that I just study.” Jinyoung huffs.   
“Well Jackson’s not here to entertain us. We could... eat something? What’s your favorite food?” he asks.  
“Strawberry yoghurt.”  
“Okay, will a strawberry milkshake work?”  
Jaebeom shrugs. Jinyoung rolls his eyes.   
“Come on.”

Jinyoung leads them down side streets until they emerge on another main street. Without any taller buildings blocking the mountains, Jaebeom can see the Amaranth Tree from here.   
“How do you know this place so well? I thought you just moved here,” he says after the silence gets awkward.   
“Actually I went to the school here for two years. The kids there are street smart, I was bound to pick up _something_ ,” Jinyoung answers, leading them left down another street.   
“Two years? How many schools have you been to?”  
“Four, counting Amaranth.”  
“Really?”   
“Yes. It’s not _that_  many. I moved houses eight times.”  
Jaebeom can’t believe Jinyoung’s nonchalance.   
“Aren’t you... even a _little_  frustrated? From moving so much?”  
Jinyoung shakes his head, his long fringe shaking from side to side. It’s distractingly soft. Jaebeom wonders how it would feel to run his hands through that hair  
“Not really. If anything I feel guilty,” Jinyoung says.  
“Huh? Guilty?”  
“Well, the first few times was because people kept harassing my... mom, but that was when I was really young so it doesn’t bother me. I would move schools because we would move to a different city, but sometimes it was because people were harassing _me_  instead.”  
“What? Why are you so popular to harass?”  
“Jackson didn’t tell you? My mom’s an ex-royal.” Jinyoung continues walking like it’s no big deal.

Jaebeom can’t with this kid.   
“What? Ex-royal? Don’t make me invoke rule three, because you know I will,” he says.   
“Ex-royal. Haven’t you heard of the Princess? She was engaged to be married to the Prince of Caladi when she suddenly renounced her princesship?”   
Jaebeom doesn’t appreciate his tone, but he shakes his head anyway. “Oh well. My mom renounced her title because she got pregnant with me outside of wedlock,” Jinyoung explains, kicking a loose stone.   
“Scandalous,” Jaebeom says, unsure of what else to say.   
“She didn’t even love the Prince anyway. She was just going to marry him because her parents told her to. As soon as she renounced her title, she married my dad. If there’s anything more scandalous than an unfaithful Princess, it’s a Princess who has a fatherless child.”  
Jaebeom can only speculate how that affected his general popularity. The story sounds vaguely familiar, but Jaebeom gets bored of common gossip too easily.

Jinyoung doesn’t say anything further, and judging by his frown, that line of conversation is over. Although, this displeased tone is new to Jaebeom, and he maybe wants Jinyoung to admit he _is_  frustrated.  
“Well anyway,” Jaebeom says, “don’t you get sick of making friends just to leave them?”  
Jinyoung wrinkles his nose, something thing that Jaebeom doesn’t know how to feel about.   
“I guess? I don’t exactly... make friends. I’m nice to people that are nice to me, but there’s never anyone close enough to write home about,” Jinyoung shrugs. Jaebeom itches to stretch an arm over his shoulder, or do something remotely comforting, but he doesn’t have the guts to.   
“So... just acquaintances?” he asks. Jinyoung nods, chewing his cheek. “Okay, so if I only make best friends, does that make us acquaintances or actual friends?”   
Jinyoung pretends to hum in thought, leading them into another wide street.   
“You see that shop over there?” he says, pointing to a building down the end of the street with a red and white awning.   
“Yeah?”  
“How about the first one there determines what we are?” he says, taking off at a sprint.   
“Hey!” Jaebeom runs after him. “That’s not fair! You play soccer!”  
Jaebeom keeps up, but Jinyoung is just out of reach. He pushes his legs hard, looking to snatch Jinyoung’s flapping school shirt. He manges to close the gap, grasping his shirt, when he trips on the curb, pulling Jinyoung down with him.

His knees hit the ground first, pain shooting up his femurs. Jinyoung manages to slip out of his grasp, wobbling, but remaining on his feet.   
“Fuck!” Jaebeom shouts, gingerly sitting back on his butt. The knees of his pants are wrecked. “My mom is gonna bury me alive,” he groans, and Jinyoung crouches to inspect the damage.  
“Does she live in the city?” he asks.  
“No. She lives out east- fuck that stings,” he says, voice cracking as Jinyoung feels his kneecaps.   
“Then who says she has to know?” Jinyoung says, apparently happy with the state of Jaebeom’s knees. He stands up, and offers Jaebeom a hand. Jaebeom takes it, grunting as he puts his weight back in his legs. “Come on. Let’s get milkshakes without injuring ourselves.”   
  
Jinyoung slumps down in the booth seat. “Neither of us won,” he says. Jaebeom is surprised at how serious he was about it. Just when Jaebeom thinks he has a hold on Jinyoung’s personality, he throws him in a loop. He takes the seat across from him, tapping the table in anticipation.   
“You’re basically turning into a best friend guy just being around Jackson anyway,” he says. Jinyoung leans on his hand, frowning. “What’s that look for?” Jaebeom asks.  
“Huh? Oh,” Jinyoung says, wringing his hands. Jaebeom just stares him down, waiting for him to realise if he doesn’t say it, Jaebeom can and will abuse rule three. “Jackson hates me now.”  
“What?” Jaebeom says, incredulous. “Don’t joke about that. He- no homo, he fuckin’ _loves_  you.”  
“I’m not joking.”  
“What the fuck happened?”

Jinyoung sighs.   
“Okay. He does this thing where if it’s too quiet he has to fill up the space with some sort of ramble, and his favourite topic is how stupid you are for the whole soul surgery fiasco. I can’t speak for everyone, but I’m one hundred percent sure we’re all sick of it. He brings it up a few nights ago, just before we’re supposed to get in bed. I- and I just told him to lay off,” he says.   
“Did _lay off_  have a swear word in it or something?” Jaebeom jokes, but Jinyoung only grimaces.   
“No... but I did follow it up by saying _it has been a month_ , and- okay, there  _may_  have been a cuss, but I had to get it through to him I didn’t want to talk about it. Then he got so _dramatic_  about it. He goes _what the fuck man? I trusted you and you’re on his side?”_ Jinyoung clutches in chest in mock agony, “ _no, I’ve heard you loud and clear. Don’t talk to me! I’m not listening!”_

Jaebeom has to laugh at the _accuracy_. “I just don’t get why he’s so up in arms about it,” Jinyoung pushes his fringe back with one hand. Jaebeom’s laugh dies in his throat, and he almost chokes trying to get his words out.   
“I think it’s- uh his brother had a complication with his soul, and he died after they tried surgery,” he manages to answer. Jinyoung goes to say something else but the waiter approaches with their drinks. His expression relaxes as his plain vanilla milkshake is delivered.   
“I can’t believe you ordered vanilla,” Jaebeom says, after receiving his strawberry milkshake. Jinyoung just shrugs, slurping it through the straw. Jaebeom does the same, expecting the sick sweetness of strawberry syrup, but he is pleasantly surprised. “It’s made from actual strawberries?” he looks to Jinyoung. He’s smiling smugly.   
“Of course. You think I’d pay eight dollars for a _fake_  strawberry milkshake?” he scoffs.

Jaebeom never took Jinyoung as the impulsive type, but now that’s he’s here, he wonders how he never noticed it before. Jinyoung announces he’s sick of his hair getting in his eyes, and decides he’s getting a haircut. When Jaebeom asks where the fuck he’s getting all this money from, he flashes his silver card and says _ex-royalty has its perk_ s.  
“Uh huh, and what do you want me to do while you’re busy doing that?”  
“Well, do you want one too?”  
“Depends. You have enough ex-royalty for me too?”  
“Yes.”  
“Then let’s do it.” That is the story of how Jaebeom got convinced into dyeing it black. He argued firstly that it would get destroyed because of swim club, but the end result is glossy enough that he’s okay with wearing a swim cap.   
Jinyoung gets his short back and sides, with a short fringe that he lets the hairdresser run pomade through. Jaebeom always knew Jinyoung had thick eyebrows, but he didn’t really _know_ until now. And it definitely does _not_  make him any more attractive. Jinyoung is just the boy he unfortunately got soul bonded to. He’s straight as a square.

They have time before they have to catch the train back to school, but not enough to really do anything else, so they settle to wait at the station. Jinyoung’s knee brushes Jaebeom’s as they sit on the bench. Sometimes when Jaebeom tries to feel his soul around Jinyoung, he can’t feel the end of it. It’s almost like it runs straight through into Jinyoung’s. He only just realises the ease that settles in Jaebeom’s body when they touch is _because_ they’re connected.   
“You know,” Jaebeom swallows, angling his aching knee away from Jinyoung’s, “we share. A lot.”   
“Okay?” Jinyoung says, looking at him weirdly. Jaebeom has to gasp. No fucking _way_.   
“Please don’t tell me you don’t know what sharing is,” he almost pleads. Jaebeom has a moral duty to explain shit to him, but please, anything but fucking _sharing_. Jinyoung frowns.   
“What’s that?”

Jaebeom does _not_  want to sob.   
“Okay, well,” he shifts so he faces him better, but deeply regrets it because he really can’t look Jinyoung in the eyes. “It’s like... when you’re _r_ _eally_ close to someone, your souls can... exchange elements. You balance each other out. Passively. It’s really...” It’s really _romantic_. “Yeah. You’ll get it a little if you’ve been friends with someone for a while, or if you sleep in the same room as them,” Jaebeom thinks about waking up with more fire magic than what he went to sleep with, “but it’s. It’s probably just because we’re bonded.”   
“Ah. Okay. Sorry,” Jinyoung says, probably sensing how close to choking Jaebeom is.   
“No you can’t- it’s _involuntary_ ,” Jaebeom stresses.   
“Ah,” Jinyoung says awkwardly. He doesn’t _understand._

Jaebeom rethinks his strategy.   
“Okay- You know how soul searching is really... it’s only for people you _trust?”_ Jinyoung nods along. “Sharing is like that. Except even more. If you start sharing with someone, and then you suddenly never see them for a hundred years, once you see them again, you still share as freely.” Jinyoung actually seems to understand. Thank fuck. He was not about to add _also you tend to share easier the more you like someone_.

Jaebeom isn’t even on the train before he realises, _very belatedly_ , he can’t go ahead with soul surgery. If he’s sharing way more than he’s ever shared before, changing his soul is probably going to fuck up Jinyoung’s in some way. How he didn’t make this connection before is a mystery. Going to the city seems to have curbed Jinyoung’s impulsiveness, because he doesn’t drag him into the city again. That and they get bogged in assignments. They settle into a solid normalcy.

So it’s a surprise when, in the middle of a lecture on proper punctuation, he blinks, and suddenly his teacher disappears. He looks around. He’s in the math classroom. Oh. He stares at his fingers. They’re long and knobbly.   
“I’m right, aren’t I?” someone says right in his fucking ear. For fucks sake. Jaebeom squeezes his soul down. He can’t get his gut to lurch. Jackson is uncomfortably close to his- _Jinyoung’s_ \- face. Jinyoung fucking broke rule number _one_. Jaebeom can’t even use rule two around this asshole. Fuck. He wants an answer.  
“Huh?” Jaebeom manages to say. Jackson rolls his eyes. He has changed a bit in the face, some of his baby fat has started to come off of his cheeks. “You can tell me. I’m not gonna judge.”  
“Tell you what? I didn’t hear you,” Jaebeom says in his best attempt at Jinyoung’s voice. It goes smoothly.   
“Jinyoung stop. You’re scared you’re gonna fall in love with him, and he’s gonna hurt you again.”

Jaebeom can’t believe his ears. Jinyoung’s ears. Fuck it, they’re his now. Jaebeom has no idea what the fuck the context is but it sounds really, _incriminatingly_  gay. Jaebeom is so confused, but he has to guess what Jinyoung would say.   
“I’m not gonna... fall in love with him,” he says. It’s completely unconvincing. Jackson gives him a pointed look, and the teacher tells them to stop talking. Jaebeom squeezes his soul again, and finally he gets back to his body in a flurry of colour.   
“Are you okay?” Youngjae whispers beside him.   
“Yeah. I’m- just switched bodies for a sec,” Jaebeom says.   
“Oh okay,” Youngjae breathes a sigh of relief, “You seemed really panicked for a moment. I was about to say, semi-colons are confusing, but not _that_  stressful.”

Jaebeom basically stalks Jinyoung down to confront him. Jinyoung says it was an accident, but he doesn’t meet Jaebeom’s eyes. Jaebeom doesn’t like how it looks. One bit. The problem with doubting Jinyoung’s straightness, is that it gives him false hope. False hope gives him a basis to do something stupid, like feel _f_ _eelings_. He already knows how well falling in deep for a straight friend goes. Jaebeom then can’t help but want to correct his past wrongs by putting distance between them. It works, until final exams are on, and Jinyoung basically moves into Jaebeom’s room because studying around Jackson is _too distracting_. Jaebeom doesn’t read too far into that statement .

The night before the Math exam is where Jaebeom finds themselves cramming. He can’t remember all the different rules for deriving, and Jinyoung can’t wrap his nerd head around _at least how many nights should Sid study if he wants to pass?_  
Jinyoung keeps his laser focus as Jaebeom collapses back on his pillow.   
“What’s the motherfucking time?” he asks, rubbing his face.   
“11:30-ish,” Jinyoung replies. Jaebeom yearns for the time he had the energy to stay up until 3 doings dumb shit with Youngjae. He closes his math book with a sigh.   
“I don’t even know what to do with a fraction,” he whines.   
“Convert it to a square root,” Jinyoung says, eyes not leaving his page once. Jinyoung has a nice side profile. Cute nose. Long eyelashes. Fuck. He’s so tired and mathematically stumped he can’t think straight. Jinyoung sighs, fisting a hand in his hair.   
“You’re gonna be fine,” Jaebeom assures him, “go to sleep so you’ll be able to function in the exam.”

Jinyoung puts his mechanical pencil down.   
“Trying to kick me out now?” he jokes, and Jaebeom’s heart fucking stops, because when Jinyoung smiles, his eyes crinkle with crow’s feet, and Jaebeom doesn’t know what to do with that information. Jinyoung stands up, stretching his back.  
“You can stay if you want,” Jaebeom says. Fuck. That probably came out desperate. Jinyoung frowns at him, but his smile remains.   
“Ah yes. I love sleeping on the floor,” he says.   
“Mark left you his whole bed, and you wanna sleep on the floor?”

Jinyoung looks at Mark’s bed, then back at Jaebeom. He flops down beside Jaebeom, holding onto Jaebeom’s hip to stabilise himself as the bed springs creak. Jaebeom doesn’t think about what any of it means. “Wow, can’t even turn out the light,” he says. Jinyoung rolls his eyes, propping himself up on his elbow.   
“Watch this,” he says, reaching above the bed frame for the wall. He holds his hand against the brick for a second, before the room goes dark.   
“Is that even possible?” Jaebeom wonders aloud.   
“It is. Maybe you’d _know_  if you did Combinations,” Jinyoung says, the bed shifting as he lays back down.   
“Ha ha. Aren’t you cool.”

The beat of silence that passes between them makes Jaebeom think he overstepped it, but Jinyoung just says, “So do you think I can get expelled for flunking?”  
“It’s one exam. And you’re not gonna fail.” Jinyoung shifts again, uncomfortably reminding Jaebeom he’s still in his presentable pyjama shirt.   
“Hope you don’t mind,” he says, sitting up and pulling it off, “I can’t sleep with a shirt on.”  
“As long as you keep your pants on,” Jinyoung says. Jaebeom doesn’t choke as he lies back. His eyes have adjusted to the low light, so he can see Jinyoung facing him on the edge of his pillow. The year of being Jackson’s roommate taught him when there’s a silence, and both of you are awake, you’re supposed to fill it.

“Does it hurt when you unbond with someone?” he asks. He can almost hear Jinyoung thinking.  
“I don’t know. If bonding to someone is painless, unbonding must be,” he replies, his voice an octave deeper. Jaebeom doesn’t shiver.   
“You know what I meant,” Jaebeom says.  
“Does it hurt when the person you’re bonded to dies? Yes.”  
“How much?”   
“Like you wish you’d died too. You know where the souls connect?” Jinyoung asks, and Jaebeom feels vibrations all over his body.   
“Yeah?”  
“You can get ghost vibrations even after it’s severed.”  
“What the fuck.”  
“It hurts so much more, because it reminds you they’re not there. I figured out eventually to use water magic to numb the end, and it healed on its own.” Jinyoung sighs, his voice beginning to sound strained. “That’s why we have to figure out how to unbond. I swear I’ve poured over Bambam’s stupid book for _hours_ , and there’s nothing. It just says only a soul doctor or soul celebrant can unbond you.”   
Jaebeom reaches out carefully and holds his shoulder.   
“Please. If I can build a fucking knife from library books, I can help you find a book on unbonding,” he says. Jinyoung laughs softly. Jaebeom recoils his hand. He wants to run away before Jinyoung’s presence melts him into a puddle of goop.

Jinyoung doesn’t even know how much Jaebeom suffers because of him.   
“Can I soul search you?” Jinyoung asks abruptly. Jaebeom can’t believe he’s really going to say it.  
“Yeah.” Jaebeom is a fucking masochist. He pushes his soul up into his chest under Jinyoung’s warm fingers. His chest tingles. He can’t breathe. Jinyoung can probably feel how fast his heart is beating. This is really intimate, is all he can think. He swallows over the lump in his throat. He’s going to suggest something _really_  stupid, because if he doesn’t, it’s going to haunt him.   
“Can I?” Jaebeom asks quietly, tapping his fingers in front of Jinyoung’s chest. Jinyoung hums affirmatively, hand never leaving Jaebeom’s chest. Jaebeom studies his face for any sign of discomfort, but he realises Jinyoung actually has his eyes closed.

He flattens his palm against Jinyoung’s chest despite every bone in his body telling him to run away. Jinyoung’s soul feels so familiar. Fire major. Earth minor. Jinyoung feels like sitting in front of the fireplace when it’s snowing. He feels like finally resting your legs after walking all day. He feels like a sunrise, a fresh start, a resolve to do better. Jaebeom could easily cup Jinyoung’s cute cheeks, and kiss him softly. This is it, he realises with a familiar impending sense of doom. He’s _actually_  in deep for Jinyoung.

Jaebeom is thinking too hard in the overwhelming silence. “Why did you want to, um, soul search me?” he asks.   
“Just because Jackson isn’t your friend right now, doesn’t mean he doesn’t worry about you,” Jinyoung says flatly. Jaebeom feels a cold wave of _something_  that he’s not going to unpack now.   
“Uh huh. And you’re gonna go soul bond him and prance off into the sunset,” Jaebeom says. Jinyoung snorts.  
“No, I don’t- I don’t like being bonded,” he says.   
“Me neither,” Jaebeom lies, “but to be honest, I don’t think I mind being bonded to you.” Jinyoung’s hand feels like a weight on his chest. “You’re just... sensible. You wouldn’t do anything that’d put us in danger. Us, me, whatever.”  
“And you built a knife,” Jinyoung reminds him.   
“Well, I can promise you I won’t _die_ ,” Jaebeom mumbles.

Jinyoung hums.   
“Promise me you won’t do soul surgery. Even after we unbond.”   
"Is this Jackson's concern for me again?" Jaebeom tries to joke. As much he wants to, he literally can’t refuse anything Jinyoung says.  
"No, this is mine. Please," Jinyoung repeats. Jaebeom can barely see Jinyoung’s face, but he knows his eyes are open and studying him.   
"Fine. Promise I won't, _O loving husband. For as long as we both shall live_."  
Jinyoung hits him with his outstretched hand, but they both burst out laughing.  
“Shut the fuck up. Can you take anything seriously?” he smiles. Jaebeom gets a rush whenever Jinyoung swears. It’s like vandalising a saint . Jinyoung tucks his hand back under his head, and Jaebeom retracts his hand as well.  
“I can so. Sometimes it’s just too good to pass up,” he says. Jaebeom misses the warmth of Jinyoung’s hand.   
“Of course,” Jinyoung says, and Jaebeom can almost hear his eye-roll.   
“I can!”  
“Prove it then.”

Jaebeom has to think. It’s hard to when Jinyoung is lying right next to him, watching and waiting for him to have an adequate comeback. Something serious he wonders. Or maybe something he’s curious about, but while being serious.  
“Jinyoung,” he starts.   
“Yes?”   
“There’s something I wanna know. When you switched with me in Math, what were you and Jackson talking about?”  
The silence is thick. Jaebeom is, for once, grateful Jinyoung doesn’t have a hand on his chest to feel how anxious he is.   
“I’m not- that’s- no. I’m sorry I switched without warning you. But I can’t tell you I... promised Jackson. It’s his secret.” Jaebeom doesn’t want to be _that_  asshole, but from memory, it didn’t really sound like _Jackson’s_ secret.  
“I get it. Jackson was talking shit, and you’re trying to keep my feelings from getting hurt. But a rule’s a rule. You want people to believe I’m you in an emergency, I have to know.” Jinyoung scoffs.   
“Jackson _does_  talk shit, but I’ve never hidden that from you. Trust me, it was nothing. Jackson has probably already forgotten about it anyway. It’s not going to affect you being me,” he rationalises. Jaebeom can’t bring himself to hate how good at arguing Jinyoung is.  
“You broke rule one and now you’re breaking rule three? You’re such a rebel.”  
“Thanks. Also you broke rule two.”  
“Jackson fucking hates me. I was just saving your ass. You’re welcome by the way.”  
“He doesn’t hate you,” Jinyoung says.

It goes quiet again as Jaebeom doesn’t voice his disagreement. Sure, Jackson has toned down his _vocal_  hatred, but that doesn’t mean they’re back to being best buddies. Jaebeom can sit at the table at lunch, but he doesn’t directly talk to Jackson, and neither does Jackson to him.  
“Since we’re playing twenty questions,” Jinyoung says suddenly, breaking his train of thought. “What happened between you and Youngjae?”  
The air gets sucked out of Jaebeom’s lungs. “I’m not trying to be prying, but when we switched, he was kind of standoffish. I didn’t see it before, but I remembered you guys went everywhere together. Am I... reading too far into it?”  
Jaebeom can’t tell if he’s genuinely concerned. or just trying to get Jaebeom back for pressing him about Jackson. He’s too good at controlling his expressions and tone.   
“Yeah. We kind of... stopped being close. I don’t know how to explain it.”   
“Stopped... being close?” Jinyoung asks. Jaebeom curses himself for wording it weirdly. “Did I kind of... replace him?” he asks a little quieter.  
“Yeah- No, I mean,” Jaebeom says quickly. He doesn’t know how much of the truth he can tell without outing himself.

His defensive, competitive side tells him to be more truthful, so he can get Jinyoung to trust him, tell him _his_  secret. “I’ll tell you. When I said I found that book in the library- it wasn’t me. It was Youngjae. Youngjae found the book, and I rolled with the idea. He- I fucked up. We were sitting on the roof and I pressured him into helping me make the knife. I said some stupid shit and he panicked and then it was just me making the knife.”  
“What did you say?” Jinyoung asks gently. Jaebeom almost says it.  
“I told him I... _liked_  someone, but I couldn’t tell him who, and he lost all faith in me,” Jaebeom says, trying to sound humorous.   
“Really? That’s a weird thing to fight over,” Jinyoung says, propping himself up on his elbow. Jaebeom’s mouth goes dry at what he imagines doing with this angle. “Who did you like, that you couldn’t tell him? You don’t go into the city that often. Unless...” Jinyoung trails off, and Jaebeom panicks. _Fuck fuck fuck_.  
“No! What? That’s... he’s like my brother,” Jaebeom spits.   
“You don’t go into the city that often,” Jinyoung repeats curiously, sitting up properly. _Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck._

In the milliseconds Jaebeom has to prepare a defence, he knows he has two basic options. First one is don’t tell Jinyoung. Throw him off. Maybe Jaebeom likes someone else. Hell, completely lie, and say it’s a _girl_  from his home town. Second option, he could tell Jinyoung. Gauge how Jinyoung reacts, and give that the potential to snap Jaebeom out of his dumb infatuation. Tell him the truth because he fucking _trusts_  him. Because Jinyoung is his sunrise. His fresh start. He’s not Youngjae.   
“No- yeah-” he stutters. _Fuck it_. “I fucked up, okay? I told him I liked him, and- he just- he shut down. It was _wrong_. We’re literally brothers.”

The space between them feels like miles. Did Jaebeom make the right choice? Is Jinyoung homophobic? Oh god. Maybe he’s one of those people who think homosexuality is a sin. What if Jackson _was_  talking about Jinyoung falling in love with a boy, and it was the godly He that would hurt him? Jaebeom’s not a Christian, and he was pretty sure Jinyoung wasn’t, but Jinyoung’s hard to get a read on sometimes.   
“Is that what you really think?” Jinyoung asks. Jaebeom doesn’t know what he means. He stands up wordlessly.   
“What? What do you mean? Where are you going?” Jaebeom asks. Oh god. Jinyoung picks up his Math book and his satchel. He doesn’t answer. “Jinyoung, what the fuck?” he pleads. Jaebeom feels like the life has been sucked out of him. Like he’s watching Jinyoung behind a television screen. Jinyoung shuffles to the doorway. “Jinyoung-”

 “You’re the worst person I could have bonded to. Good night,” Jinyoung says, closing the door on his way out.


	5. Chord Progressions for Guitar

Jaebeom is a complete mess. It hurts worse than losing Youngjae. The last time he cried himself to sleep, he didn’t have all these questions plaguing his mind. What did Jinyoung mean?  _Is that what you really think?_  What did Jaebeom think anyway? That he fucked it over with Youngjae, and fucked it over with Jinyoung for feeling something more than friends? _You’re the worst person I could have bonded to_. That one runs around his head until he’s dizzy.  
Mark doesn’t pull him up for his puffy eyes the next morning, something he’s not sure he’s thankful for.

The exam is worse than he could have imagined. His stomach growls for missed breakfast way too loudly, and he can’t focus on what any of the words mean. He almost breaks down when it asks him to derive fractions, because Jinyoung would know how to do it, and Jinyoung also thinks he’s the worst person to be bonded to. Jaebeom tries to confront Jinyoung about it, because the lack of closure is making him sick, but Jinyoung doesn’t want to talk. He glances at Jaebeom with hard eyes, and goes back to talking to Jackson, like Jaebeom isn’t worth a second thought.

It’s never not on Jaebeom’s mind. Every memory of them plays like a silent film, making him question every interaction. Did Jaebeom love him all the way back then? Could he have said something there that would have completely changed their dynamic? The worst part is for all his agonising, he doesn’t get any answers. Mark lights lavender scented candles before bed. When Jaebeom asks what the smell is supposed to be good for, Mark says _stress relief_. Jaebeom dreams he can confront Jinyoung, and confess he’s head over heels for him without stuttering; a superb, yet unrealistic achievement. He wakes up in what he recognises with a sad familiarity as Jinyoung’s body. The clock reads three minutes to the alarm. Jaebeom doesn’t have it in him to switch back yet. He hugs Jinyoung’s arms around his thin body, and buries his head in the pillow. He doesn’t revel in the fact that the pillow smells like Jinyoung’s fancy shampoo.

It snows consistently through Christmas break, which he spends with his mom, and it’s still snowing at Amaranth when he returns. Jinyoung still seems to look straight through him. Jaebeom has no choice, but to hide out in the library. Mark, the one person that can stand to be in Jaebeom’s presence, takes pity on him, and brings him any bit of lunch he can smuggle out. He doesn’t ask any questions, for which Jaebeom can be sure he’s loves Mark for, because he’s sick of questions.

Jaebeom loves the Yugyeom and Bambam too, but the problem is they’re _fourth years_ , and Jaebeom is a _fifth year_. They can’t save Jaebeom from the train wreck that is Offense. Jaebeom forgot about the sharing thing, until he walked into Offense, and it was like he could literally _f_ _eel_  their magic exchanging, like blood flowing back through collapsed capillaries. Jaebeom finds the tail end of his soul which flows across into Jinyoung’s, and puts his hand on his stomach to imagine clamping it shut. The sensation of balancing out stops. Mr Marin asks him to demonstrate an element charged kick. The lack of focus makes magic flood from his unchecked soul. He lies, and says he has a sore knee from dislocating it over Christmas break.

It sucks all the joy from everything. Jaebeom goes to Gen. water alone, and, once accidentally seeing Youngjae and Jinyoung at Gen. earth, he turns around and goes to Gen. air alone. He can’t even exist in the living room without the awkwardness sucking the life out of him. Every time they laugh outside his door, he’s crushed that much more. He pushes his chair back and looks under his bed. The black guitar case gathers dust in the corner. Mark is out there laughing. He climbs off of the chair and slithers his hand under to pull it out.

If he wasn’t set on soul surgery, maybe he’d be a musician. He got inspired to take up the guitar after going to a concert. The lead guitarist was probably an air major; easily picking out crisp melodies with incredible control over subtle changes in sound quality that _couldn’t_ have been prerecorded, because Jaebeom could _feel_  the magic reverberating through his ribcage. Jaebeom probably would have had to fight Youngjae for keyboard, seeing as the keyboardist was a talented water major, until the last song. It was Jaebeom’s favourite song on the album, just a sad break up song, heavy with vocal effects and harmony between the keyboard and the bass. The musicians had changed elements, and the detuned effect combined with water magic gave the guitar a layer of emotional depth 13 year old Jaebeom was not prepared for.

He holds the old electric guitar in his hands. It’s exactly how he remembers it. Black and white, just like the guitarist’s. He moves his hand to hold a G major chord, brushing lightly over the strings. It’s so fucking out of tune. Nice to see the pegs still move in their sleep. He fiddles with the pegs until it doesn’t sound too tone deaf, and strums a few more chords. He hums a melody as he messes around with the chord progression. The magic comes as natural as breathing, simmering in his fingertips as he strums loosely.

This is his escape. When they talk in muted voices outside his door, he can block it out with his guitar. The lyrics are a lot of venting. If he doesn’t make it as a sorcerer, or whatever else he thought he could be, he might as well have an album ready. That is, until he doesn’t even have that to fall back on. On one afternoon, he’s trying to find something that rhymes with _asshole_ , when he blinks, and suddenly he’s sitting on the couch outside. He’s looking into Jackson’s big brown eyes. He blinks again, and his hands are gripping his guitar like a lifeline. He shakes his head, but his hands don’t stay on the guitar. He doesn’t want to be looking at Jackson. Jackson has no sense of personal space.  
“ _You_  hate him? So do _most_ of us,” Jackson scoffs, leaning back to cross his arms. He’s still so fucking dramatic about everything. Youngjae rolls his eyes from beside him.  
“I don’t hate him,” he says. Jackson shoots him a pointed look, which Youngjae holds for longer than a moment’s silence. It’s like they’re talking with their eyes.  
“Whatever,” Jackson says finally, turning back to Jaebeom. Who is currently Jinyoung. “So if you hate him, can you bond with us yet?”

Oh. They’re bonding with more than one person now? Jinyoung said he hates Jaebeom, but he switched when Jackson asked him to bond with them? How many of them are bonded? Jaebeom glances around the room for help. Mark is picking his nails. Yugyeom and Bambam are no where to be seen. Traitors, all of them.  
“No,” Jaebeom finally says, rejoicing that he got the pitch right. “I don’t know... let me think about it.” Jaebeom tries to switch back, squeezing his soul again and again into his gut. Nothing. Jinyoung must have a concrete hold on his soul. Jackson throws his hands up, sighing loudly. Jinyoung didn’t tell him he was bonded before? Or did he, and Jackson is being persistant?  
“I’m bored,” Jackson announces, pulling crumpled paper dogs out of his pockets. As soon as he sets them down on his lap, they jump and circle each other.  
“Go study then,” Jaebeom says, staring the dogs down until they stiffen. Jackson’s eyes snap up at him.  
“For someone that’s meant to hate JB, you sure act a lot like him.” Jaebeom jerks his soul down repeatedly until _finally_ , his gut lurches.

It’s dark. He has his head in his hands, palms pressing painfully into his eyeballs. He pulls them away, and his hands are wet with tears. The guitar rests in his lap. Ink bleeds around the word _body_. A tear must have fallen there. Fuck. Jinyoung saw his lyrics.

Jaebeom, stupidly, thinks it’s fortunate he doesn’t make it to the next evening wondering how the fuck he’s going to escape the lack of rule one. He goes to Gen. air, and the moment he sits down, the telephone on the far wall rings. Mr Pommon answers it, scanning the room until his eyes lock on Jaebeom’s. Jaebeom can’t lipread too well, but he’s pretty sure he caught _ah, he’s here. Of course. He’ll go._ Mr Pommon hangs up quickly.  
“The headmistress wants you in her office. You might want to make it snappy, I think she’s a little cross,” he smiles thinly. A chill runs down Jaebeom’s spine. Fuck. Jackson found the knife, didn’t he? Jaebeom’s sense of dread only grows stronger the more flights of stairs he climbs. Jinyoung would have told him to take it. Now they both have means for revenge. The door is pinned back, so he walks in. The other six are already there. The silence is heavy. The headmistress is leaning her hands on her desk like she just lectured them, and upon Jaebeom’s entrance, she picks up the phone and punches in a long number.

Yugyeom has tears streaks down his cheeks, and Bambam pats his shoulder awkwardly. The distance between the two leather lined chairs is too much for a side hug. Youngjae, Jackson, and Mark stand behind them, linked by Jackson’s hands fisted in the back of their blazers. Jinyoung leans on Mark’s shoulder. Jaebeom forgot to clamp the end of his soul before he walked in, and the feeling of magic entering and leaving his chest reminds him to do so. Yugyeom gives Jaebeom a weak smile, but the rest of them don’t seem to care enough to greet him. Jinyoung doesn’t even shoot him a dirty look. He doesn’t move from Mark’s shoulder. Every once in a while they all collectively snort. Maybe Jinyoung cracked, and decided to bond with them. Jaebeom feels like he’s trapped in a glass cage, watching them support each other, being unable to interact. No one looks his way. It stings, but he did this to himself. The headmistress ends the call with a resounding click.  
“I’ve called someone up to fix you all. They’ll be here in an hour. Meantime, you’re all in the detention room.”

Jaebeom has been to the detention room before. It’s built underneath the staff tower; a dingy, dark room that stinks of sweat. He got a lecture about _plagiarism_ , something he didn’t even _do_. That was the last time he let anyone look over his English assignments. Jaebeom sits on top of a desk away from the other six, reluctantly sitting in the graffitied chair after the supervisor glares at him. The six take up conversation, which Jaebeom takes a while to figure out is about soul bonds. They say a few words, and then seemingly drift off mid-sentence. Jinyoung says lots of _okay_  and _I see_  aloud, so Jaebeom guesses they must be explaining it to him. Which Jaebeom knows Jinyoung is just playing along. Jinyoung knows way more than what he lets on.  
“Hello?” someone knocks on the shut door. The supervisor swings his legs off the table and answers the door.

Outside is a short, middle aged woman with a bob of straight black hair.  
They talk generally until the supervisor walks past and leaves, the lady stepping into the room.  
“I’m Jisoo, I’m here to clean up a mess?” she smiles. The six remain silent as she approaches them, frown growing on her face.  
“Oh- um- I’m Bambam,” Bambam blurts out, probably realising she couldn’t hear them.  
“Bambam, that’s an interesting name,” she remarks. “Oh,” she stops right in front of Bambam. “I see what your principal meant by _mess_.”  
“Please don’t unbond us,” Yugyeom pleads, “Jinyoung is _new_.” Jisoo regards Jinyoung a little too long.  
“Please? I don’t have to ask for Mark’s calculator in the exam,” Jackson says.  
“And that’s all you ask him for?” she smiles with her eyes. “Sorry guys, you’ll have to trust me on this one. You don’t want to be bonded to more than one person at once.”  
“How come?” Youngjae asks, along with Bambam and Jackson’s voiced agreement. She shakes her head.  
“I’ve seen too many cases where souls get damaged from things turning sour. People try to unbond and end up hurting each other.” It seems like she has trouble making eye contact, but from the focused glint in her eyes, Jaebeom realises she actually looking in between their chests. Maybe she can actually _see_  soul bonds.  
“What do you work as?” Youngjae asks, leaning forward in his seat.  
“I’m a soul celebrant! I help people get married by their souls. Though, those people are usually older than you kids. Actually they always are. Soul marriage is illegal for minors,” she answers. They look between each other guiltily.  
“Oopsie,” Yugyeom says quietly.  
“You’re lucky your principal is letting you off so lightly. You better be promising her to never end up in here again.”

They probe her with questions about souls, to which she seems to have an answer for everything.  
“Oh! You have two souls,” she says to Jackson.  
“Yeah,” he says, “how can you tell?”  
“Well firstly, the bonds are coming in from different directions,” she chuckles. “You have Youngjae and Jinyoung on one soul, and Mark, Yugyeom and Bambam on the other. And I have myochromaspritus- that means if I look hard enough, I can _see_  your soul.” She works her way around the group, Jackson whining when she unbonds both of his souls. Bambam says it’s weird to feel alone in his head. They all agree. Finally Jisoo reaches Jinyoung, where she frowns deeply.  
“Hold on,” she stares at his chest, following some invisible line to where Jaebeom sits on his lonesome. Jaebeom feels his heart lose its rhythm out of pure anxiety. “You two are different.” There’s a silence that isn’t punctuated by snorts.  
“Yeah... they can switch bodies,” Yugyeom says. Her eyebrows disappear up into her bangs.  
“Well,” she crosses her arms, “I’ve only ever _heard_ of a case like this.” She doesn’t need to move her hands, just watching as Jaebeom feels an itching beneath his ribcage.  
“Really?” Jackson huffs. “What makes them so special?”  
“It’s hard to say,” she muses, eyes never leaving Jinyoung’s chest. “Ah- Please stop doing that,” she says to Jaebeom. 

 “What?” he croaks.  
“Holding the bond. It makes it hard for me to work,” she smiles sweetly. Jaebeom reluctantly lets go of where he had been grasping and twisting his soul into knots, magic leaving his soul as he exhales. Jaebeom can’t fully explain the sensation. It feels as though he was being unthreaded. Like he were a woollen blanket, his loose threads being carefully freed from their stitches.  
 “The more common types of soul bonds can usually be attributed to combined soul potential. If two people with big souls bond, they’re going have a clearer bond. Like how Jackson went from sensing Youngjae and Mark’s emotions to being able to hear their thoughts.”  
“But me and Yugyeom could hear each other before we bonded with Jackson,” Bambam says. Jisoo smiles cryptically.  
“That bond... when I see that, it means it wasn’t caused solely by your combined potential. It’s not like this is a strict science though. We haven’t figured out soul bonds as much as we’ve figured out other things, like generation. You know what they say, magic is anything that can’t be explained by science.” Bambam looks like he knows he didn’t get a straightforward answer, but he doesn’t know how she managed to confuse him. She keeps unthreading Jaebeom, until he feels a jarring sensation, like his threads are made out of metal guitar strings. His stitches won’t budge.  
“This is one’s a tough cookie,” she sighs, scratching her head. “I’m no genius, but it’s almost like you’re _too_  bonded.”  
In any other situation, Jaebeom might have laughed. This time, he feels like he has been stabbed in the chest repeatedly. Jinyoung wanted so badly to be unbonded, but even in the presence of a soul celebrant, they’re still fucking stuck. “Try not to share, and it should unbond on its own. Definitely don’t switch bodies,” she advises. “See you later boys- well, hopefully we don’t see each other like this until _much_  later,” she waves. They all manage goodbyes, with Jackson yelling _goodbye Jisoo!_  as she walks out of the door.

Jaebeom squeezes his soul reflexively. It feels intact, but the end where it seems to flow out of his body is thinner, and lumpier. At least now Jinyoung can’t freak out and switch when Jaebeom’s composing. Trying to switch would be a harder in this state anyway. The amount of pressure he’d need to put on his soul in order _to_  switch could probably damage it. Jinyoung hasn’t said a word to him since _you’re the worst person I could have bonded to_. And forgive Jaebeom for intruding, though Jinyoung literally switched with him, but Jinyoung said he hates Jaebeom. What good are rules and promises to a person who hates him? Jaebeom doesn’t know what he did except find him so fucking attractive. At night when his regrets play behind his closed eyes, he swears he can feel the end of his soul decaying. He doesn’t realise it until he wakes up feeling a little more subdued, that it’s Jinyoung forcing water magic on the bond to weaken it.

Jaebeom doesn’t fight it. Water is what he wanted to stock anyway, right? The jack knife sits gathering dust in the corner behind his old guitar case. He could tear straight through the bond. His only reservation is that it could end up hurting Jinyoung, like the last time he got forcibly unbonded. So while Jinyoung hates the fuck out Jaebeom, Jaebeom can’t bring himself to hurt him. But. Jinyoung _did_  start using magic on the bond. Without a care as to how it makes Jaebeom feel. It feels like he’s rotting. Jaebeom has a way to stop this shit. He could end this stupid, painful arrangement so very easily. Mark is fast asleep beside him. He fishes the knife slowly and silently out from behind the guitar case. Its balance is a little wonky between Jaebeom’s finger and thumb, but it’s enchanted. It’s going to serve its purpose.


	6. Shells

Jaebeom remembers reading that soul doctors would be able to operate without even piercing the skin, if the patient was awake, because they may ask the patient to lift their soul as close to their skin as possible. But they don’t. Because it’s painful. He feels the end of his soul reflexively, looking for the decaying, threadlike bond. Just holding it and pushing it up to his skin makes it ache. It sits just below his stomach. Jaebeom lifts his shirt, watching Mark’s closed eyes for any sign of disturbance. He’s a light sleeper- Jaebeom has to make this quiet. He opens the knife slowly, placing the sharp edge on top of his skin. It seems to transfer beneath his skin, cold and foreign, sinking further until his soul quivers involuntarily. He draws the knife lightly over his skin.

Souls aren’t a physical thing that you can see in your body. They seem to exist on a different realm, and they have their own nervous system separate to the body. Which means you can feel pain. Jaebeom’s soul may as well be a physical fucking thing, because running the knife back and forth feels like trying to cut off an arm. It screams at him to stop so resoundingly, Jaebeom has to lift the knife away to collect himself. His dumb mind races to tell him to stop it, discard the knife, ask someone for help.

He can’t. He needs to do this. Alone. Mark’s sleeping form is blurred by tears springing to his eyes. He pulls the pillow over his head to muffle any sobs, letting the knife dip into his soul again. He hacks, and saws. It hurts like nothing has ever hurt before. Maybe he deserves this. It’s the physical equivalent of watching them laugh at nothing in the detention room feels like. He’s so fucking awful for ruining two friendships with his dumb gay feelings, and then telling Jackson to fuck off. Jinyoung and Jackson hate him. They’d want him to feel their pain. He’s taking their revenge for them. The thread-like remains of the bond snap under the knife, one by one, until the knife has dipped to one thread, that no matter how hard to saws, will not break. He lets the knife go, and cries until he can’t breathe.

When he lifts the pillow, his stomach is dotted with black and grey, like someone spilled pen ink on him. He reaches down tenderly to touch, and winces from where the knife cut his skin. He feels like he’s being drained. Like magic is bleeding out of his soul into nowhere. He clenches the end of his soul to stop it, and while it fucking aches, it seems to stop the ink pouring out under his skin. He lets out an unrestrained sob, watching fearfully as Mark’s eyebrows twitch. Jaebeom almost wants him to wake up. He could help. But he can’t face Mark’s panic. He can’t face Mark dragging his weak ass out to the living room for everyone to see. He can’t face all their disappointed, and worried faces. All he can do is watch Mark’s sleeping figure, and let tears roll down his cheeks. A cloudy tiredness settles behind his eyes. He’s so fucking exhausted. He barely sleeps. Every time he seems to relax, the feeling of the knife cutting into his soul shocks him awake. He dreams of his father. Whenever he dreams of his father, it's always about him dying. But this time, the murderers hear him cowering behind the sofa, and stab him to death too. When the alarm goes off, he’s no less exhausted. He checks his soul reflexively, and finds the end of his soul numbed. Finally.

He goes about getting dressed for school mindlessly, and he almost makes it out of the room without a fuss. He’s slipping his shoes on, when the door slams open to Jackson shrieking,  
“Are you _trying_  to fucking kill him?”  
Jaebeom panics, and looks to Mark for help, but he’s staring blankly at Jackson’s topless form. Jackson stomps in, swinging his hands around wildly. “Have you _seen_ his skin? What the _fuck_  did you do?” he shouts. Jaebeom’s mouth goes dry. _Jinyoung_. If Jaebeom had it bad, Jinyoung was probably _worse_.  
“I was _trying_  to cut the bond,” Jaebeom says, affronted by how he can feel Jackson’s heavy breathing on his face. “And it didn’t work anyway, so you can get off your high horse. He’ll live.” Mark steps in to hold Jackson back from throwing a punch.

The snow stops Jaebeom from sitting outside the pool, so he confines himself to crouching in the dark corners of the library. He’s reading some fantasy novel he picked at random, when Mark scares the shit clean out of him. Jaebeom feigns kicking him in the shin.  
“Wow! Way to show respect for your bread-bearer,” Mark says, passing him a bread roll, and sitting down beside him. Jaebeom puts the book aside to eat. Mark won’t stop staring at him.  
“What’s your problem?” he says with his mouth full. Mark blows air out of his nose in frustration.  
“Could you maybe, you know, just _talk_  to Jackson? And Jinyoung?”  
Jaebeom swallows his bites. You don’t think I don’t want to? You think this isn’t as fucking shitty for me as it as for the rest of you?”  
“I didn’t say that,” Mark frowns. “But how hard is it to admit you were wrong?”  
Jaebeom doesn’t know what to say, mostly because he thought this conversation was about the fiasco this morning.  
“Wrong?”  
“You didn’t do soul surgery. You couldn’t either, because you were bonded to Jinyoung, and it would have shared across. The whole _yay_   _I’m gonna be the greatest Pokémaster_  thing fell flat because it’s not natural.” Jaebeom can’t stop himself from smiling. “Jackson acts like he has hated your guts for months, but I know he misses you. He’s just too stubborn to... move on. You should talk to him. He’d forgive you in an instant,” Mark smiles.

Idly, Jaebeom thinks if he didn't have their shitstorm fight with Mark last year, he'd probably be the next victim of his gay curse. But he's not over Jinyoung. Sure, Mark has nice eyebrows, but they’re not thick like Jinyoung’s. He has full lips, but they’re not magnetising like Jinyoung’s. He doesn’t speak in that curious, nerdy way that Jinyoung does. He didn’t drag Jaebeom to the city to drink milkshakes, and go to the hairdresser. He didn’t lay next to Jaebeom, and ask to soul search him. He doesn’t make Jaebeom simultaneously want to vomit with anxiety and kiss his stupidly beautiful face. And no matter where Jaebeom hides, his dumb gay thoughts of Jinyoung follow. Jaebeom stares at the spot on the corner of the carpet where Jinyoung would sit next to him in Gen. water. He misses him. As fucking stupid as it is, he misses him. He feels for his bond instinctively, expecting the cord-like remains of what the soul celebrant left them with. He’s met with only a few threads. The ones that wouldn’t budge. What kind of fucking irony, to be irreversibly bonded to someone who hates him. He tugs at the threads like he means to force them to snap, forgetting it’s the trigger to switch. His vision goes white with the amount of pain that suddenly floods him. It’s hot, so unbearably hot. All over. Static blares in his ears, ringing, and ringing, until he comes crashing back to reality.

He’s sweating, and that gross cloudy feeling he was experiencing last night is back. He just wants to go back to sleep. Not wake up for a long time. When the bell finally fucking rings, Jaebeom flees the aquarium so fast he gives himself he nearly trips. He somehow steadies himself before coming face to face with Jackson. Fuck. Jackson is honestly the last person he wants to deal with right now. Jackson peers around him, moving too fast for Jaebeom’s tired eyes to follow.  
“So Jinyoung didn’t go to water with you? Weird. Was he at lunch with you?” he demands. Jaebeom tries to remember what Mark said. Something like Jackson doesn’t hate him, and he misses Jaebeom. He should talk to him. Tell him he didn’t stab himself.  
“No. Is something wrong?” Jaebeom rasps. Jackson shrugs defensively. Jaebeom just nods, immediately regretting how it throws his sense of balance. He squeezes his eyes shut. Fuck, this is so much worse than last night.

He feels like he’s going to collapse.  
“I’m sorry,” Jaebeom says, tongue heavy in his mouth.  
“Huh?”  
“I didn’t... you know. The knife. I didn’t do the soul surgery thing,” Jaebeom mumbles, and Jackson says a little _oh_.  
“I- yeah, well- I know. Jinyoung made you promise him. You could've said that earlier though, asshole,” he rolls his eyes, pulling him in for a hug. Jackson moves too fast for Jaebeom, his knees faltering. Jackson flinches, holding his shoulders. “Jesus Christ, are you okay?” Jackson steadies him with one arm, using the other to feel his chest.

Jaebeom wants to complain, but he just savours how nice it is to have Jackson finally look at him without murderous intent in his eyes. “Holy shit, you’re hyperwater-hyperearth,” Jackson says, eyes wider than saucers.  
“Huh. That’s why everything’s so heavy,” Jaebeom says. Jackson doesn’t let go of him, looking behind him into the aquarium for any help. Everyone has gone. Jackson mutters a string of curses to himself. “Jackson, it’s okay. I just wanna go lie down,” Jaebeom says.  
“No! What the fuck you’re literally having a crisis!”  
“‘Fuck you want me to do? I'll go lie in the sun.”  
“Shut up and listen! Are you still bonded to Jinyoung?”  
“Yeah fucking sadly-”  
“Then we need to find Jinyoung so he can balance you out. Can you make it to the dorm?” Jackson asks. Jaebeom makes a pained noise.  
“Just help me up the stairs.”

Jackson slings his arm around his shoulders, and even though he’s antsy, he goes at Jaebeom’s speed. At the staircase to the dorms, Jaebeom feels dizzy just looking up at all those levels. Jackson huffs, “Hop on,” squatting before the first step. Jaebeom doesn’t have the energy to protest. He rests his head on Jackson’s shoulders as they climb, Jackson going as fast as he can without running. He can hear Jackson wheezing by the fourth flight, and Jaebeom mutters an apology. “Don’t be. You’re actually lighter than I expected,” Jackson says. They make it to the top, Jackson letting Jaebeon slide off as gently as he can. They walk into the dorm. Everyone must be getting ready to go to their clubs, because it’s silent in the living room. Jackson holds his hand as he approaches his and Jinyoung’s room, throwing the door open.

Jinyoung’s bed is empty. Jackson lets out a choked laugh. “I have no idea where is,” he says, running his hand through his hair in frustration. Jaebeom clutches Jackson’s hand like a life raft in rough waters. He can feel it, the second Jackson will let go, he’ll get swept away.  
“When was the last time you saw him?” Jaebeom asks.  
“Fuck, um, breakfast. You don’t have any exams he’d be madly cramming for?” Jackson asks hopefully. Jaebeom shakes his head.  
“Anyone else seen him?” Jaebeom tries. Jackson licks his lips, frown etched in his features. Jaebeom has a feeling he knows the answer to this one. Someone walks outside the open door.  
“Joonie!” Jackson calls out. The prefect in question pauses in the doorway. “Have you seen Jinyoung? Like anywhere?”  
Namjoon taps his foot in thought.  
“Not since breakfast? Why?”  
“He like, disappeared, and no one has seen him since,” Jackson whines. Namjoon hums.  
“I’ll let the teachers know. In the meantime, get ready for clubs,” he advises, walking away.

“He’ll be around here  _somewhere_ ,” Jaebeom squeezes Jackson’s hand, but it doesn’t sound convincing, even to himself. Jackson stares at Jinyoung’s empty bed, mouth twisting as he thinks.  
“Can you still switch with him?” Jackson asks. Jaebeom takes in the deepest breath he can, tugging at the remains of the bond like before. It gives way to a bombardment of heat. It’s like he has been locked in an oven, or a crematorium, it’s so fucking hot he tries to scream for help, but his tongue is so dry it can’t move. It’s blindingly bright, like the sun is burning into his retinas. Just as suddenly, he’s thrown into a freezer. He thinks he’s back in his body, because his legs seize, and he falls back against the door. Jaebeom’s so fucking heavy, there’s no oxygen, the earth is swallowing him whole. Jackson reaches for him, but flinches back like he was electrocuted.  
_Fuck fuck fuc_ k he hears Jackson’s voice, like he’s a long way away. _I swore I wasn’t gonna do this, but there’s no time._  Jaebeom doesn’t have the strength to argue, he’s just confused when Jackson cups his face and leans in, pressing their lips together. Jaebeom feels _something_  reverberate throughout his whole body, like Jackson’s hands are passing through him.

“Oh,” Youngjae has stopped in the doorway. Jackson pulls away quickly. Youngjae looks incredulously between them, doing a double take at Jaebeom. “Oh god, are you alright?” he asks. Jackson holds a hand to Jaebeom’s forehead. He’s still way too close to Jaebeom’s face, but he doesn’t care as long as Jackson keeps a hand on him. It’s like Jackson has applied a magnet to his soul, magic emptying out through his fingers.  
“Jinyoung,” Jaebeom says to Jackson, “I can't switch with him. It fucking hurts. He's... it's like he's boiling alive.”

Jackson shares a worried look with Youngjae, one that lasts more than a moment. Finally Youngjae nods, and sits down at the desk. Jackson helps Jaebeom stand and walk over to Jinyoung’s bed. Yugyeom and Bambam burst into the room panting.  
“Someone is dying? What the fuck?” Bambam wheezes.  
“You bonded with them again?” Jaebeom asks.  
“No!” Jackson growls, snatching his hand away from Jaebeom. Jaebeom regrets opening his mouth.  
“What’s going on?” Mark appears behind Yugyeom, pushing them in, and closing the door.  
“Everyone,” Jackson claps for attention. They form a rough circle. “You know how... we haven’t seen Jinyoung- like all day? I think there’s something seriously wrong. Jaebeom just tried to switch with him, and he said Jinyoung is boiling. We need to find him. Like now. We can’t wait for teachers to get suspicious. Let’s think his usual spots,” Jackson says, waving his hands about.  
“The library?” Youngjae suggests. Jackson snaps his fingers in approval.  
“Let’s split up, and cover more areas,” Mark clears his throat. There’s a silence as they all look between each other with accusatory glances, before Mark rolls his eyes.

“Jaebeom,” Yugyeom starts, wringing his hands. “I know soul bonding is illegal, but this is a _serious situation,_  so- um, I can temporarily bond us all so we can communicate a lot easier? If you want,” he says. They all look to him for a response. He feels like Jackson’s patting his back, even though he can see Jackson has both his hands in front of him.  
“Yeah,” he swallows, “let’s just do it.” Yugyeom holds his hands out for Youngjae and Bambam to take. Jaebeom leans forward on the bed to take Jackson and Mark’s. Bonding feels _loud_. Like every little white noise gets amplified tenfold, drowning out his thoughts.  
_Did it work?_ Jaebeom hears Youngjae’s voice, but not his lips don't move. Jaebeom gapes.  
_Yeah_ , Bambam’s lips curve upward at Jaebeom.  
_Okay so,_  Jackson frowns, letting go of their hands, _Mark? Youngjae? You guys want to check the library?_  
_Yeah,_  Youngjae says as Mark shrugs _Sounds cool_. They share their own silent glance and leave.  
_Bam. Yugyeom. I think you guys should check his clubs. Me and JB are gonna search the room then maybe go stalk teachers._  They salute in unison, exiting dutifully.

Jackson breathes a heavy sigh, scratching his jaw. He starts looking around the room, checking under the bed, and in Jinyoung’s closet. Jaebeom doesn’t quite trust his legs, but he stands anyway. “Can I ask you something? Really quick?” Jackson asks.  
“Uh yeah?”  
“Are you gay?”  
Jaebeom splutters.  
“Is that what Jinyoung told you?”  
“Yes- well, _no_. But you’re _sure_?” Jackson asks.  
“...Yes? What does this have to do with anything?”  
“Nothing,” Jackson says too quickly. “No, wait- how do you _know_  you’re gay?”  
“How do I... Jackson what the fuck?”  
“Answer it, and I swear I’ll buy you strawberry milk for the rest of your life.”  
“I- what? How do I know?”  
Jaebeom tries to think of how to answer this. He had an explanation planned when he came out to Youngjae on the roof, but he’s forgotten most of it. “I... don’t really like girls? Like the way you guys do.”  
Jackson rolls his eyes, checking the shoe rack.  
“So? You could just be not into anyone whatsoever. A celibate.”  
“What do you want me to say? Jackson, my bisexual friend, I had a crush on a _boy_. _Two boys_.”  
“Say one of them was Jinyoung,” Jackson crosses his arms, turning to him.  
“W- How did you know?” Jaebeom asks, stomach churning.  
“Wait, really?” Jackson says. “Oh my god, they both broke rule four,” he whispers to himself.  
“You just...” Jaebeom rubs his hands on his face. “What’s rule four?”  
“Rule four is don’t fall in lo- hey, I’m not supposed to tell you,” Jackson shakes his finger at him. Jaebeom is waiting for Jinyoung to burst through the door with an _aha! Tricked you!_  but he does no such thing.

“Whatever, there’s your answer,” Jaebeom sighs. “Anyway, what did you say I was before?”  
“Gay?”  
“No. Like hyper-hyper?”  
“Oh. Hyperwater hyperearth? Why?”  
“Because I think Jinyoung is the exact opposite. When I switched it was hot and bright- then when I got back to my own body it was cold.”  
Jackson grows quiet. Jaebeom feels a slap across the cheek. Jackson’s hands are still by his sides.  
_Did you just.._.  
_I’m sorry! I literally just imagined- ah fuck it. You’re such a fucking asshole, you know that?_  
_Can you guys not fight?_   Youngjae’s voice reverberates in his head.  
_He’s not upstairs,_  Mark reports.  
_Well, he hasn’t borrowed anything out since Christmas,_ Youngjae replies. _It’s all textbooks, or fiction. Except this book on shells? I think that number means it’s from the philosophy section_.

Jaebeom glances at the books piled up on the desk. A small book with brown pages sits haphazardly on top.  
_Okay_ , Jackson says. _Check the first floor. If he’s not there try checking the toilets? I don’t know._  
_Don’t worry. We’ll find him,_  Mark says. Jaebeom picks up the book. It’s a soft back with a plain white cover, and in black, the title reads _Shells_. Jaebeom can't immediately remember doing any assessments on shells. He flips it over. There’s no blurb. That’s weird. He flips to a random page, and gets smacked with wall to wall _words_. He reads a page while Jackson looks through Jinyoung’s notebooks hurriedly. _Oh_ , he thinks aloud. _This isn’t about shells_. He flicks to the beginning to try and find the context. Jackson jumps to his feet. _So what’s it about then?_  he asks. Jaebeom’s knees start quivering like they’re going to give out again. He hands the book to Jackson.  
_Can you tell me if I read that right. Do you know what unsouling is?_  
_What?_  Jackson frowns, reading as fast as he can.  
_It’s- what it sounds like,_  Jaebeom thinks.  
_That’s impossible,_  Jackson looks up briefly, eyes wild. _Souls hold the fuckin’ life of your body- oh god. Oh my fucking god. What- does that say what I think that says. What the fuck. Oh my god. You’re hyperwater!_  Jackson shouts in his brain. Realisation comes crashing down between them. _He’s hyperfire-ing! He’s- oh my god Jaebeom he’s going to kill himself._  
_What’s going on?_  Yugyeom says, worry evident in his tone.  
_He’s- he’s trying to destroy his soul, and create another I- that’s fucker was asking em about my two souls! Fuck, oh my god we have to find him right now!_  Jackson wails.  
_Let’s go,_  Jaebeom directs at Jackson.

There’s nails driving into Jaebeom’s knees with every step, but the panic induced adrenaline lets him ignore it. Jackson nearly trips several times trying to speed read, and run down the stairs. They’re on the last flight of stairs when Mark chimes in, _Is anyone close to the Tree?_  
_We’re on the field_ , Bambam says.  
_Why?_  Yugyeom asks.  
_Just a hunch okay? Go check it,_  Mark orders. Jaebeom and Jackson slow to a jog once they hit the ground floor. Jaebeom keep him from running into anyone as they make their way through the dining hall. Jackson holds a hand out to stop him.  
_There’s like, fucking nothing on where you should do this? Why would he choose the fucking tree?_  
_Maybe he didn’t want you to know,_  Jaebeom swallows.  
_He_ , Mark says hesitantly, _He told me if there was anywhere he wanted to die, it would be there_. Jackson looks up at Jaebeom with wide eyes. It’s so silent in the empty hall, he can hear his heartbeat in his ears.  
_We found him,_  Bambam says flatly.

Jaebeom and Jackson take off at a sprint. Around the field is a layer of white, but the field has been cleared for soccer practice. The shivering soccer club barely give them any attention, with the teacher’s back turned to them.  
_The- I’m trying to bond with him, but it’s not working,_ Yugyeom cries.  
_I tried to touch him and my fucking fingers burn!_  Bambam hisses.  
_Don’t swear,_  Jaebeom says. He reflexively feels the bond. It aches like it has all day, feeling gross and infected. They grind to a halt once they push through the vines. Bambam and Yugyeom are on their hands and knees around Jinyoung’s body. Jinyoung lies unconscious among the dead leaves, jacket covering his torso like a blanket, skin blotched with red and white. He doesn’t look real. Jaebeom freezes up, his throat squeezing. He wasn’t around to know Jinyoung was struggling. He wasn’t there to let him know he isn’t alone. He couldn’t protect him. For fucks sake. He didn’t even confess to him yet.

“Fuck!” Jackson shouts, throwing the book at the ground. “There’s nothing in there on how to reverse it.” Mark and Youngjae run in behind him, panting.  
“What?” Youngjae says anxiously. Yugyeom convinces Bambam to touch Jinyoung long enough to try bonding again. Jaebeom braves a few steps towards Jinyoung’s feet. His chest slowly rises and falls, hair matted with sweat. He’s too hot. He’s hyperfire.  
“We need to get his water levels up, right?” Jaebeom asks Jackson. Jackson blinks a few times, nodding. “Where can we get him around water?”  
“The aquarium?” Jackson offers.

“The aquarium’s locked after school.”  
“We could melt the snow,” Bambam suggests, shouting _ow, shit!_  in their heads.  
“That wouldn’t be enough,” Mark says.  
“What about the pool- no nevermind it’s frozen,” Youngjae tries. It’s frozen, and covered. Jaebeom has only ever actually seen it in its icy state once, and that was because of a split second thought.

Jaebeom has a dumb idea.  
“Strength enchant me,” he says. Youngjae squints at him, before realisation dawns on his face.  
_Twelve right?_  Youngjae seems to whisper.  
_Don’t count. Just keep going,_  Jaebeom replies, turning back to Yugyeom’s attempts to lift Jinyoung. He can’t hold him for more than a few seconds, staring at his red palms in anguish. Jackson and Mark move to help them. How are they going to move him if they can’t touch him? Jaebeom yanks at the bond, trying to elicit a response from Jinyoung. He only recognises the feeling of sand in his throat before the raw pain kicks his knees out beneath him. He tries to get his arms out to steady himself but everything is white, he only feels gravity dragging him down. He wants to throw up. He feels like he has been left in the sun to rot. Hands on his face clear his lungs.  
_He’s touching Jinyoung,_  Bambam says.

Jaebeom blinks, and he’s staring at Jackson’s worried face.  
_What happened? Did you try switching again?_  Jackson asks, letting go of Jaebeom’s cheeks.  
Jaebeom looks at his hand on Jinyoung’s leg. It’s warm, but his pants probably protect him. He pushes his pant leg up and feels his ankle to be sure. It’s not unbearably hot. Jinyoung’s face doesn’t move. He’s still dying.  
“Why aren’t we sharing?” Jaebeom croaks. Mark sighs.  
_We don’t have time. You carry him. Let’s go,_  he says. Jackson helps him to his feet.

Jinyoung's blazer gets taken off of him. Sweat binds his uniform to his skin, showing the black bruising that runs up his stomach. That's what Jackson saw this morning, he thinks, hooking a arm under his necka nd his knees. The strength enchantments must have set in, because Jinyoung weighs nothing more than a pen in his arms. Jaebeom still tries to run as smoothly as possible, because the limp way Jinyoung’s neck bounces is sickening. He’s like a sack of bones. Jaebeom prays they still have time to save him. The pool is, expectedly, locked by chain. Jaebeom shifts Jinyoung to drape over his shoulder, but Jackson beats him to the lock. He kicks it open with a burst of flame that leaves his shoe blackened. Jaebeom pushes past into the pool. The faded blue cover sits over the top.  
_In the room up the back,_  Jaebeom addresses them, _there’ll be a switch for the cover._  Youngjae and Bambam run down to the room, throwing its unlocked door open.

Jackson clutches his foot on the ground, silently screaming, as Mark sits beside him. Jaebeom needs enough extra water to do this. He can’t ask it of Jackson after the shit he just did. Machinery groans as the cover starts to crawl backward, revealing the ice beneath. Bambam paces back out, Youngjae in tow. Jaebeom looks around. Yugyeom is pouring over the abandoned book in the doorway.  
_Hey. Send me some water. I need it to melt the ice_. Jaebeom feels himself mellow out as water magic floods him, calming his racing heart. He carries Jinyoung to the edge of the water, kicking his shoes off, and hesitantly putting a foot onto the ice. He feels like a fucking dumbass. Turning water to ice using water magic makes sense, but trying to reverse it is a lot harder. He should have asked for fire magic- but he wants to be able to balance Jinyoung out when he wakes up. If he wakes up.

The ice melts slowly beneath him. He sinks into it, like it’s quicksand. It’s fucking freezing too. Cold water soaks up his pants. Jaebeom hoists Jinyoung gently down, wrapping his legs around Jaebeom’s waist so he can make sure Jinyoung will stay afloat. He concentrates harder, willing the ice to give way into water. The cover clangs as it reaches the end of the pool, making the ice crack. Water filters in up to Jaebeom’s hip. It’s not enough. Jinyoung is still too hot. Youngjae and the fourth years are all crouched around the book. Jaebeom can do this. If he can freeze water, he can melt ice. He pushes the water around him against the ice wall. It cracks again. The ice beneath him has sunken so he stands below the water line. He pushes, and pushes, trying to shake the fucking ice, when finally it all bursts. Jaebeom shivers as the wall of ice collapses into water, crashing over his head. He kicks his legs treading to keep his head above water. He holds Jinyoung close, a hand on the side of his neck to stop it from flopping over. It’s so fucking cold Jaebeom’s jaw starts chattering.

Jinyoung still isn’t responding. Fuck. This was meant to work.  
_Hurry up! There’s no fuckin' time!_  Jackson shouts at him. Jaebeom bites back a number of insults. He searches Jinyoung’s face for any sign of life. He can barely feel his heart beat through his neck. He’s still in there somewhere. He’s going to do something very dumb and cliché, because he doesn’t know what else to do.  
_Yugyeom. Can you rebond us from this far?_  
_Huh- You and Jinyoung? Yeah?_  
_Then rebond us now right now,_  he says, tilting his head, and kissing Jinyoung. He almost forgets to keep them afloat the sensation is so dizzying. It’s the same, butterflies in the stomach feeling he had the first time. It feels right at the same time it’s wrong. It’s spontaneous, at the same time he kind of wanted to kiss Jinyoung for two months. And more. A rush of heat flows through Jaebeom. He pulls back. Jinyoung stirs, frowning, pulling his own arm up slowly to rub his eyes.  
_He- he-_  Jaebeom can’t get the words out. The fourth years cry out in delight. Jinyoung's eyes open. Jaebeom nearly drops him out of surprise. Fuck. He missed him and his stupidly perfect eyes so fucking much.  
“Sorry,” Jaebeom manages to say, before the sound of the other five diving in drowns out all other sound.

Yugyeom is the first to reach them, crying as he hugs them together.  
“Stop crying, you’re gonna make _me_  cry,” Youngjae gasps, tagging onto Yugyeom’s hug.  
“We’re crying?” Jackson asks, enveloping them from behind Jaebeom. Mark sniffles, hugging Jaebeom’s other side.  
“It’s so fucking cold!” Bambam exclaims.  
“Don’t swear,” Jaebeom and Jinyoung say at the same time. The rest of them giggle.  
“So...” Jinyoung says hoarsely, “what’s going on?”  
“Fuck you,” Jackson says, his voice unusually thin, “you were against JB doing soul surgery and now you’re out here trying to unsoul yourself?”  
“Oh. I meant why are we all hugging each other... in the pool?”  
“I’m sorry,” Jaebeom says again. “I broke rule number four.” Jinyoung frowns at him. Jaebeom thinks maybe Jackson really was just trying to fuck with him, when Jinyoung’s eyes widen.  
“W-what?” Jinyoung asks, chewing his cheek.  
_What’s rule four?_  Bambam asks in their collective heads.  
_Oh! Nothing! We should get out now hahaha,_  Jackson says awkwardly, breaking away from their huddle.  
_Huh?_  Youngjae asks, letting go of them. The rest of them follow Jackson, pegging him with question.

“Rule four,” Jaebeom repeats for him, watching for Jinyoung’s reaction. He hasn’t commented on the close position they’re in yet, something Jaebeom is thankful for because he’s still warm in this freezing pool.  
“I thought- ah wait. You’re allowed to fall in love with someone else outside of the bond. That’s not what rule four is for,” Jinyoung says, putting on a strained smile.  
“What? I know what rule four is for,” Jaebeom frowns. He sucks in a deep breath. This is it. He needs to execute this as flawlessly as he did in his dreams. “Jinyoung, I- fucking hell- it’s _you_. I like _you_.” Jinyoung stares into his soul, mouth twisting into a smile. Jaebeom butchered it.  
“I thought you liked Youngjae,” Jinyoung says quietly.  
“What? Youngjae? No! Maybe for a second, but that was before _we_  bonded.” Jinyoung watches him closely, eyes shining with tears as he breathes deeply.  
“I have a confession,” he says. Jaebeom’s chest constricts. He hasn’t had time to prepare himself for this. In all the times he dreamed of confessing, the dream always ends before he gets an answer from Jinyoung.  
“I broke rule four too,” he says. Jaebeom wants to scream. He wants to shake Jinyoung’s shoulders and demand answers. He can’t bring himself to.

He’s kind of in shock.  
“You what?” he breathes out, words slurred by his teeth chattering.  
“I like you.”  
“Why... why do you- I'm the worst person I could have bonded to.”  
“What? Oh. That,” Jinyoung tenses. “I thought- I thought you would hate me if you knew. That I was gay.”  
“I thought you hated me because I was gay. What the fuck,” Jaebeom chokes out a laugh. Jinyoung smiles at him, and Jaebeom’s heart stutters in his chest. He has those crinkles around his eyes, the ones that make his eyes seem like they’re sparkling.

“Hey,” Jinyoung says softly. Jaebeom hums in question.  
“What do you say, we go back to the dorm, and when everyone’s asleep, we take the train down to the city and find a place that makes good strawberry milkshakes?”  
“I thought you were going to say we do something else when everyone’s asleep, but that’s fine.”  
“We _could_  do something else,” Jinyoung flutters his lashes. Jaebeom’s mind goes blank.  
“Okay,” Jinyoung squeezes his arms.

They have hell to pay later for breaking into the pool, and skipping clubs, but Jaebeom can’t say he cares. All he needs to know is that he can keep Jinyoung alive. He can’t say he cares, because he’s finally happy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who read this far!! Thank you also to the people who gave kudos and commented, y’all made my day :> Big thank you to my fren who hyped me up ❤️❤️ you know who you are! Come yell at me @sennyght on twt


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